


trapped in flesh and bone (trapped in iron and stone)

by going_going_gone



Series: a future [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Chantry Bashing (Dragon Age), Circle of Magi Culture and Customs, Evie's parents suck guys, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, First Love, Humour as a coping mechanism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mage Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Multi, Ostwick Circle (Dragon Age), Rite of Tranquility, Sibling Rivalry, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and so does the rest of her family, anti-templar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/going_going_gone/pseuds/going_going_gone
Summary: "Something about being locked in solitary for a few days always drove Evie a little mad."Evelyn Trevelyan isn't a good mage; she's willful and sarcastic and arrogant. The Circle is supposed to smooth out her edges, but all it does it sharpen her into a fine point
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Original Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: a future [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701358
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. trapped in iron and stone

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, a massive fic about my Inquisitor's time at the Circle? I know you didn't ask for this, but sure! The first two parts are already edited as much as I care to edit them, but I'm still working on the last part. Should be done soon(ish).

The Circle is too cold. 

She didn’t notice the first night, because she was too busy crying, but the night after, she lays in bed for hours, staring up at the hard stone of the ceiling, waiting for herself to stop shivering. There’s only one blanket on the bed, and it’s threadbare and scratchy . It’s nothing like her duvet at home, which was blue, and ed ged in silk. Her mother had picked it out for her, and Elisabet told her it went with the rest of the room’s  _ décor _ .  That’s one of the big words that Bette likes to use when she talk s  to Evelyn, to prove that she’s a grown-up. 

Evelyn doesn’t think  _ this  _ blanket would go with any décor. It’s grey and thin and she hates it. She doesn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to bring her duvet. Except that,  befor e the Templars had come to take her away, and Mother had told her to get her things toge ther , she hadn’t thought of  it . Evelyn didn’t know how awful this place would be.

It keeps getting even more awful, as the days go by. 

Her Uncle  Thomas  is  a Templar, and he’d been at  Ostwick until a few weeks ago, and he’d told Max that  if  he grew up to be a Templar, he could be at  Ostwick too, maybe. And that was a good thing, because  Ostwick was a good  C ircle, unlike Kirkwall.  Her Uncle Roger was a Templar in Kirkwall, and he said the Circle  there was horrible .  Everyone had been  really mad when Uncle Roger had been s ent  to  Kirkwall, but no matter how many letters Father sent, they wouldn’t put him back.

But if  _ Ostwick _ __ was a good Circle, Evelyn  never  wanted to go to Kirkwall in her entire life.

Because  Ostwick was  _ cold _ , and everyone was so  _ mean _ . The other apprentices wouldn’t talk to her, because all she did was cry. But she  couldn’t  stop. She missed Mother and Father, and she even  missed Edwin, even though  recently  he’d started yelling at her when she asked him to play.  She missed Max most of all because no one was as willing to listen to her, and none of them had her little brother’s scrunchy little smile, which always made her giggle no matter what. 

She  _ didn’t  _ miss though Elisabet, because her sister had been the one who told mother about the dancing lights Evelyn had shown her. Evelyn wasn’t sure , but she thought she might hate her sister for that. 

The only people who would talk to her were the  Enchanters —her new teachers. And the Templars talked too, but they talked at her, or around her. Their stupid helmets made their voices echo, so even when they talked loud enough for her to hear, it was all messed up and hard to understand .

One of the Templars even yelled at her. She’d been sitting in the library, waiting for the reading hour to finish so she could go back to the  apprentices’ bunk and hide under the covers for a little bit, before supper . There was an elf girl sitting next to her, but Evelyn didn’t talk to her because Evelyn hadn’t talked to an elf who wasn’t a servant before, and she was afraid she might say something stupid. The Templar was standing near their table, watching the  other children from under his big stupid helmet, when Evelyn sat back and stretched.

They’d been reading for so long, dumb books about the Fade, and her neck was tired. But when she leaned back in her chair, the book fell to the ground with a loud thump. The Tem plar jumped like he was scared.

The other kids all started to laugh. Evelyn flushed, reaching down to pick up the book. She thought they were all laughing at her for being clumsy, but then she saw the way the Templar was standing like he was waiting for  something bad to happen , and she realized they’d been laughing at him for being a scaredy-cat. Evelyn laughed too, then, because Templars weren’t supposed to be afraid of  _ books _ . 

“Watch  yourself ,  mageling !” he’d s houted , hand resting briefly on his sword. 

The laughter stopped immediately. Evelyn stopped  too , and stared at him. No one besides Mother had ever yelled at her before. 

She waited until she got back to the bunks to cry, but she didn’t go to supper after, because she was afraid another Templar might yell at her  again and touch his sword. 

***

Eventually, the other apprentices started talking to her, even if she still cried a lot.  She met Rendel, and Jilly, and  Finnegan , and she  met the elf girl, whose name was Ellaria, which Evelyn thought was the prettie s t name ever. She liked names that started with E, because Mother and Father had named them all starting with E — until they had Max, who was named after her grandfather because they  couldn’t think of another E-name . She didn’t say anything stupid to Ellaria, even though she wanted to ask to touch her ears. She didn’t, because she thought it would be weird.  They all called her Evie, which she liked quite a lot because it made her seem more interesting than plain old Evelyn.

But even with all her new friends, the Circle was  stil l awful. 

She’d asked, one day, if she could write a letter to her mother and have her puppy sent for. She’d asked Enchanter Viola, because she didn’t think the other apprentices would know, and  the Enchanter had laughed at her.

“Who put that into your head?” the woman had  laughed , and even if she wasn’t trying to be mean, it still made Evelyn feel stupid. 

“No one. But my puppy is only little. I don’t want her to think I left her on purpose. And I don’t want her to like my sister more, so I think she could come to live here. I don’t think the other apprentices would mind,” she’d explained reasonably. She didn’t want Enchanter Viola to think she was foolish. 

“No pets in the Circle, Apprentice Trevelyan,” the Enchanter said. “Imagine the chaos! Poor Templars would be out of their minds. Perish the thought, that the  _ robes  _ hav e companionship. Might make us feel like people.”

Enchanter Viola was talking in that  way  adults did sometimes when they meant a hundred things at once. But Evelyn understood  the gist . She couldn’t send for her puppy.  It didn’t seem very fair to her. There were cats here, who ate the mice, so why couldn’t she have her dog? She hadn’t even thought of a name for her yet!

But that last part was confusing.  _ Might make us feel like people _ . Weren’t they?

She didn’t ask, because Viola was already distracted by something else, but she thought about it a lot—for days even, and she asked the other apprentices what they thought that meant. No one gave her a good answer.

Finnegan  and Jilly had only looked annoyed and told her to stop listening to Enchanter Viola because everyone knew she liked to argue with  the Templars , which was crazy. Rendel  had told her that it true because that was what the Chantry said, but Evelyn didn’t care about that. She hadn’t asked what the  _ Chantry  _ said. 

Ellaria had only smiled and s hrugged which was  not enough for Evelyn.

She thought about asking some of the older apprentices, but they were all so busy, and some of them  could be very  rude. 

She decided to send a letter to her mother, hoping for more information, but the reply she got didn’t even answer the question. Mother just asked her how her lessons were  going and if she wanted her to send  more  treats from home. She asked Evelyn if she’d liked the little Or lesian  cakes she’d sent last time , b ut Evelyn hadn’t gotten those, because the Templars went through all their messages before they got them, and Ser Warren told her when she asked that the cakes had been damaged on the trip. 

He’d been lying, she could tell, but Evelyn didn’t press. She kept her eyes on his sword the entire time she spoke to him, to make sure he wasn’t going to pull it out. 

So Evelyn sto p p ed asking if mages  are  people because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer. She needed to focus on more important things—her lessons for one, because some of the older apprentices talked about a  test, one they all had to take when they got bigger . And she wanted to cry less because it made the other children like her more when she made jokes and told stories from home. 

Evelyn really liked it when she could tell a joke that made Ellaria laugh. One time she laughed so hard  th at supper that milk shot out of her nose, and that had made the entire table of apprentices laugh. Ellaria didn’t act embarrasse d as Evelyn would have. She made it into another joke. Ellaria was good at that.

***

It’s crowded in a Circle.

One wouldn’t think so, because  Ostwick’s Circle looked so big from the outside.  Evie r emembered  it as the  biggest building she’d ever seen. It  wasn’t, her family’s manor had been a little bit bigger , but when she’d first come, it had seemed that way.  Everything seemed big to little kids. But she’d been at the Circle for  three  years now. She wasn’t little anymore , because she was  _ eleven _ .

Evie’s  bunk is crowded at night. There are too man y apprentices now, and she isn’t sure why, at first, until she overhears some Templars complaining about transfers into  Ostwick , because of some  ‘ upstarts ’ in  Starkhaven .  There are _ always  _ things happening at  Starkhaven’s Circle.  E v i e distantly remember ed  Uncle  Thomas tel ling her father about it, but she’d been so little then she hadn’t been paying attention. 

Until they have one of the old dormitories clear ed out, though, the apprentices  were told  some of them would need to share beds. If they weren’t so young,  Evie  thinks the Templars would make jokes like they do with the older mages. She hates those jokes, because they make her skin crawl, and it mak es the eyes of the Templars stick more  when they’re all in  the baths. 

Ellaria ask ed Evie o ne day if she’d want to share a bunk so that Rendel can keep his to himself. It ’s probably meant as a kindness to Rendel, because Ellaria is always kind, but  Evie  th ought  it was als o a good solution because everyone kn ew Rendel still wets his bed.  None of them ever talk ed about it,  because that would be cruel, and the Templars are cruel enough—the younger ones mock ed him about it, sometimes, when he  wasn’t  up quick enough to clean his mess in the morning —but no one volunteer ed to share with him, either. 

Evie  had agreed with Ellaria  readily, and she wonders at the fluttery feeling it sends into her stomach. But she had more important problems , so she ignored the feeling and  tried not to  act weird when they slept side by side . Even though sometimes Evie  had to stop herself from  touch ing Ellaria’s hair, or used the sound of her breathing to help her fall asleep, she d idn’t  make it weird.

The apprentices from  Starkhaven , however, do make things around the Circle  weird . Some of them seem just like the  Ostwick mages, forgiving the brogue a lot of them possess ; t hey take their lessons seriously, they make friends, and they’re mag ic is just like  Evie  expects. But others, the older apprentices mostly, like to pick fights with the  Templars. The  full  mages that were transferred  had  proclaim ed their memberships in the Libertarian  Fraternity loudly and clearly in the first few days . 

It makes her nervous. The Libertarians are barely even a presence at  Ostwick . The only members she knows are Enchanter Viola and Fen, the elven ma ge  who spends most of his time in the dungeons.  Evie knows there  must be more, because Libertarian’s are the second biggest fraternity according to the  book she’d read about them. But i t’s not a smart group to join . The Loyalists don’t like them, so the Chantry probably doesn’t either. 

The new mages seem restless in the tower as if the imprisonment rankles even more on them than her. Parts of  Evie  itch at the thought, and if she was more contemplative, she’d probably interrogate why that  wa s. Instead, she does what she always does—her next letter to her mother is filled with questions, and she politely asks if her mother doesn’t have any answers , that the letter be passed along to Uncle  Thomas . He’s  a Knight-Captain in Starkhaven . He’d probably know.

Her mother is the only one  who  sends her letters anymore. She got a few from Father early on, but they trickled to a stop after the first year at  Ostwick . 

Edwin sent a few letters spor adically, asking after her health, but the whole thing stank of her mother’s influence, and she only answered a few of them. 

Elisabet sent her two letters , both of them that very year, after such a long absence ; the first was to announce herself married, and to profess just how saddened she was that her only sister  couldn’t be there to attend. The next was to ask after a Ser  Rollens , who was related to her husband’s family somehow.  Evie  hadn’t answered those letters. She knew her sister wasn’t sad she didn’t get to go to her wedding . Some of the other mages with noble families got special permissions to leav e but  Evie’s  family had never arranged that . They were  _ happy  _ she was gone.

And Ser  Rollens was a brute anyway . She’d seen him shove a little boy to the flagstones during a lesson  a f e w months before the letter came , all because the boy’s fire spell had gone a little wide of it s target. He even smited him, even though the Enchanter teaching the lesson got the fire put out in seconds and begged him not to . 

Elisabet’s husband was probably just as cruel, so even as  Evie  resented not getting to  go to a party, she hoped her sister was miserable with her  _ stupid  _ husband. She bet he liked to shove  little boys around just like Ser  Rollens did.

Evie  had decided to make friends with as many of the new mages as she could after she threw Elisabet’s letter into the fire . It felt like a very clever act of rebellion, even  though Elisabet would never even know . There’d been a distinct divide b etween  the two groups from the beginning, but once she’d made her decision, it was easy enough to convince Ellaria to sit next to  the  Starkhaven transfers at supper.

They all sat together, in a corner of the dining hall, a s none of  Ostwick’s mages had bothered joining them before. There were only about a dozen of them, though, so there  were a few spaces left empty. 

Evie  placed her tray down next to a  black-haired girl who was gesturing wildly as she told a rgued with the boy next to her . Ellaria followed soon after, taking the seat at the  very end of the  table .

“Is it alright if we sit here?”  Ellaria  asked, because she was better with  manners  than  Evie , and that was probably the best thing to do. 

The girl paused in her rant and snorted.

“ Sure you want to?” said the mage across from them.  He was broad at the shoulders, with the start of a dark red beard. He looked like he might be the oldest in the group of transfers.  He was fidgeting thoughtlessly with his spoon, and he looked bemused at their sudden  appearance. “What if it’s contagious?”

“What’s contagious?”  Evie  asked. Ellaria, bless her, looked a little alarmed.

“We’re  _ troublemake _ _ rs _ _ , _ __ is what Dono v an meant. ” the black-haired girl laughed. She couldn’t have been much older than  Evie , maybe sixteen, but she had the robes of a full mage. Most of the others were apprentice s though.

“So am I!”  Evie  declared. It was a bald-faced lie, of course.  Evie  was as well behaved as the next apprentice because she was just as afraid of the Templars as the next apprentice.  But sometimes, when she was feeling brave, she’d make a joke about one of them to her little gang of apprentices.  For instance, she  was  _ excellent _ __ at impersonating Ser  Quentyn , because he had such a squeaky voice .

“Doubt it,  _ shem _ ,” one of the apprentices said. 

He was an elf, which she would have know n even without the ears because elves were the only ones who called her that. Ellaria called some of the worst or the stupidest Templars that sometimes, when they were in the bunk, and no one else could hear them.

“ Stop  be ing mean,  Garel ,”  the black-haired girl admonished. “ Don’t mind him , h e’s a grump. I’m Karri, by-the-by.”

“ My name is  Evelyn , bu t you can call me Evie.  And t his is Ellaria” She slung a thumb in Ellaria’s direction, and the other girl offered a dignified nod. “ Want to hear my Ser  Quentyn impression?”  Evie  asked because it was the only  thing she did that was really brave , and she wanted to impress them. She didn’t want people to think she was anything  like the Templars. The se mages all seemed so  interesting . 

“They probably don’t know what he sounds like,” Ellaria reminded her. She looked very composed, sitting next to  Evie . Her hands were wrapped carefully together like she was waiting until they’d finished talking to eat.  H er hair was  neat, and her robes w eren’t stained. Ellaria always looked nice.

Evie  was slouched beside her, fork stuck into a piece of meat in the stew, waiting for her to start in. Her hair was loose around her shoulders because she hated braiding it, and there were splotches of ink all the way up the arm of her robe.  She thought Ellaria looked very much like an adult next to her. The brief flare of jealousy overwhelmed her. What if  these new mages thought was just a silly little kid ? 

“Is that the big dumb blonde w ith the voice? ” the bearded mage —Donovan— asked.

Evie  grinned immediately. “What’s it to you,  _ mage _ _ - _ _ l _ _ ing _ ?” she asked, and she made sure her voice started out big and  gruff —even thought she was stage-whispering—before it cracked in the middle of the word  m ageling and got all whiney. 

That made the apprentices laugh, and  Evie  swelled with pride. “ What’re you laughing at?” she squeaked. It was just like when he did it for real. 

She imagined the way  Ser  Quentyn would  flush and stammer  if he found out they were mocking him. He’d be  _ so  _ embarrassed, probably more embarrassed than when he and his stupid friends laughed at Rendel , soiled  sheets clutched in his arms .

It felt good to return the favor, even if Rendel was sitting off with some of the other apprentices where he couldn’t enjoy it. But more than that, it felt good to laugh with some friendly strangers. Even Ellaria was giggling, just like she always did when Evie broke out her impressions.  Quentyn was the only truly good one, but he had one for most of the bucket heads.

Just as Evie was deciding whether to have another go at  Quentyn or tell the joke she’d thought up about  Rollen s ’s hair , the laughter stopped abruptly,

“What’s the joke,  _ robes _ ? ”

Evie  turned and saw Ser  Rollens strolling up to the table.  He had his hands at his hips, a single gauntleted hand rest easily on his sword.  There was another Templar right behind him, but he still had his helmet on.

“Nothing, Ser,” Ellaria answered when none of the others spoke up. The  Starkhaven group had gone silent and still, but  Evie  could read the anger very clearly on each of their faces.

“I find that hard to believe,  apprentice ,” Ser  Rollens said. He smiled at her, but the smile was  _ wrong _ . Smiles shouldn’t be scary , but Templars never smiled right. Too many teeth, and it  always felt  like they were telling a joke you hadn’t heard the set-up for. “You all seemed rather jolly.”

“Lots of people were laughing,”  Evie  grumbled. “That table over there was laughing.”

She pointed at a group of Senior Enchanters, most of them white-haired and doddering. They weren’t laughing now, though. They were staring at her new table.

_ Everyone  _ was staring , actually, and the quiet buzz of conversation was gone. 

“I didn’t ask them,” Ser  Rollens told her. He barely even looked at her. His gaze was darting between Ellaria and a few of the others at the table, seemingly at random. “Who’s the jokester?”

“We were just talking about an old story from  Starkhaven ,” the bearded mage said. He was sitting stiffly at the bench, and there was a hard look in his eyes, but his tone was polite enough. “Just an innocent joke.”

“Talk of  Starkhaven is hardly innocent,” the other Templar put in.  Evie’s  throat closed a little when she realized it was  Ser Hoss. 

Ser Hoss was a bad Templar.

In her most violent moments,  Evie  thought that all Templars were bad, but then she’d remember Uncle Thomas , who’d always seemed  fin e when he visited the manor. And sometimes Ser Yennefer could be convinced to help her reach books that were too high up on the shelf. 

It didn’t make Ser Hoss any better. He was the one the mages whispered about the most, the one everyone was always careful not to be alone in the library with. She’d heard, once, that he  volunteered for duty in the dungeons. She didn’t know of any other Templars that  _ wanted  _ that job. And his eyes were always  _ searching _ . They made  Evie  feel dirty like she’d gone without bathing for too long.

“Just childhood stories,” the bearded mage assured him.

“Is that true, bunny?” Ser Hoss asked. He was staring at Ellaria. Even under the helmet,  Evie  knew.  He called Ellaria that all the time, even though she  _ hated  _ it. 

Her friend ’ s face fell, and for a moment  Evie  was terrified. If Ellaria told the truth,  Evie  might get in a lot of trouble. But if she lied, if she told Ser Hoss that the other mage was telling the truth, then  _ he  _ might get in trouble. 

She didn’t want that. The  Starkhaven mages were already  u n der suspicion . Whatever had happened in their Circle, it must have been bad. If Ser Hoss told the Knight-Commander they were spreading rebellion, it could get them all hurt. And  then Evie  and Ellaria might get in trouble anyway.

“I told the joke,”  Evie  declared. She turned from her tray to look Ser Hoss right in the face. “I’m  _ very  _ funny.”

Ser Hoss snorted. “Are you, then?”

“Oh yeah !” she told him, forcing some eagerness into her voice “ I was showing them my Ser  Quentyn voice. I’ve nearly mastered it, but there’s something I can’t get.”

She was being  _ really  _ stupid . But if she made him angry, he’d forget about the rest of them. From the look of shock on Ser  Rollens ’ face,  Evie  got the sinking feeling that it was working. Ser Hoss was still hidden behind his helmet. 

“Can I try your helmet? Maybe it’s the echo.”

She barely saw the  armored hand before it struck her across the face in a backhanded slap.  Evie  had moved to awkwardly straddle the bench, so her back struck the edge of the table sharply with the blow. She let out an involuntary cry when  another blow came. Distantly, she realized that one of the Templars had seen fit to kick her in the stomach while she was down. Two more came in quick succession, each on aimed at her belly. Her arm caught the brunt of the last one,  however, when she tried to block it. 

“Stop!” she didn’t know who that was, but thankfully,  _ thankfully _ , i t made the kicking stop. A distant voice in her head hoped it wasn’t Ellaria. At least  _ she  _ had  to have  some sense.  “ _ Please _ , she’s just a child.”

Soft hands touched her shoulder, and there was some yelling.  Evie  had tucked into herself as soon as the kick s came, so her arms kept her from seeing what was happening. She didn’t dare  unshield herself, either. 

“Move, robe ! ” Another Templar's  voice . Echoey. And then a  commotion as the other mages all seemed to  start talking at once. She heard a cry, and t he touch at her shoulder was gone suddenly.

“Knight-Captain!”

“Someone  get Harrold!”

“Is that the Trevelyan girl?”

Everyone was yelling at once, and  Evie  was trying so hard not to cry. All of this had gone ass-up, but she didn’t want anyone to see her cry. She  _ wanted  _ to look brave and fearless.

When one of the Templars hauled her up by her shoulder, she felt the burn of tears, but she resisted. She made it all the way out of the dining hall, a hard metal arm shoving her down and down the corridor before she cracked .

***

“Apprentice Trevelyan.”

The First Enchanter looked very old. It was the first thing  Evie  thought, each time she saw him. He was the oldest mage at  Ostwick . When she’d first gotten to the Circle, she’d thought that was why he was in charge, and learned only later that it was because he’d been  e lected by the Senior Enchanters. 

She didn’t know him very well, because he was a very busy man, and she’d never gotten in such big trouble before. But she was in big trouble  _ now _ . 

This wasn’t anything like the incident in the dining hall. The  fallout from that had been negligible. She’d bruised two ribs and there was a gash on her arm which had needed healing, so  i nstead of being dragged down to the dungeons, as she’d feared, she’d just spent a few days in the infirmary. 

This was different.

It had only started because one of the  Templar had decided to run his mouth out in the garden.  Whenever the mages got a chance to go outside, they took it, like moths to a flame. With the weather having turned almost pleasant, and the herb garden in desperate need of care,  Tygel had announced that mages would be sent out in shifts to work.

All the Senior Enchanters—the ones who didn’t already have free reign of the outside courtyard anyway—had gotten first pick, so everyone else was left with off-hours, but Evie didn’t know a single person who would have complained.

Evelyn, Ellaria, Finnegan, and Jilly had been clustered around a single elfroot plant, pretending to weed, when one of the newest Templar recruits had sidled up to them. The only thing Evie knew about him was that he was Fereldan, and he was stupidly brash. Jilly had straightened up abruptly at the sight of him, mouth trembling slightly.    
“Hello, Ser,” Finnegan had greeted him, only to be ignored.

“Don’t stand up, robe,” he told Jilly. “I was enjoying the view.” He’d given a harsh laugh, and the other Templar with him  only looked on vaguely  disapprovingly .

His words hit them all differently . Jilly only looked more terrified, which was a feat, considering how scared she was on a regular basis.  She was the oldest among them at fifteen, but they spent half their time ensuring she didn’t faint in terror at the slightest sound.  Ellaria only looked resigned. She placed a hand on Jilly’s arm and squeezed reassuringly. 

“Don’t be shy, poppet,” the Templar said, “I won't bite.”

Evie saw it when Finnegan clenched a fist behind his back, obviously fighting for control. She also saw the faint trail of steam coming out from between his fingers. 

Thinking quickly, Evie let out a sharp laugh. “ I  _ hope  _ not. My mother says  Fereldan’s have all the worst diseases.”

He blinked at her  stupidly  and flushed.

“Do you lot  really marry your  marbari ?” she added, but that wasn’t for Jilly. That one was for her because she wanted to see all the wa ys his face would twist up. Evie got the feeling he looked even stupider when he was yelling.

Of course, chaos had ensued. He’d started yelling at her, and then the other Templar had to get involved. And then the  Fereldan had smac k ed her, which had set Finnegan off. Luckily, he hadn’t attacked or anything, but he’d called the Templars a few creative names.  Evie’s eyes had landed on Ellaria and her heart had twisted, because the elf had thrown herself bodily over Jilly, shielding her from the Templar’s ire. 

They’d  smited her and Finnegan eventually, which felt excessive since all they’d done was make some jokes. And when the  Fereldan had stomped on her leg while she’d been sprawled out across the dirt, one of the other  apprentices , an elf named  Harion , had shoved him away.

By the end  it , there was only two mages left un touch ed — Jilly and  an  Enchanter at the far end of the garden who’d turned his back to the entire spectacle . Evie still wasn’t sure what the rest of them had done, but she didn’t get the  opportunity to ask.

After a night in solitary, in nothing but her smalls and without a lick of water, she’d been hauled up to First Enchanter Harrold to have a chat. No one had looked at her injuries yet, so her chin was still covered in blood from the smack. Harrold’s eyes skated over it all without comment.

“What’s going to happen to the others?” she asked  him now . “They didn’t do anything wrong. All they did was laugh at my joke.”

“Trevelyan,” the First Enchanter sighed. “Apprentice Harion attacked a Templar.”

She blanched. “ No he didn’t! He just  stopped that dog-lord from breaking my leg. ”

“Ser s Dotten and  Tully  both confirm he attacked them,” Harrold said, voice firm.  Evie’s  heart stuttered. He sounded like he was trying to convince t he m both that the two  _ Sers  _ weren’t rotten, cruel  _ liars _ .  Evie  expressed exactly that. 

“They’re both stupid liars!” she exclaimed. If the Templars told everyone that,  Harion could be killed, or made Tranquil. He was still an apprentice, so there was nothing stopping the m from branding him. 

“Evelyn!” Harrold snapped. She drew up short. 

Evie d idn’t know he could  _ yell _ .  Only Templars yelled. Her teachers were always much gentler when they corrected bad  behavior .

“He was just protecting me,” she said, voice small. “I don’t want him to get in trouble because I made a stupid joke.”

“That’s not why he’s being punished,” Harrold said. “He’s being punished for what  _ he  _ did.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” She hated how little she sounded, like she was still eight, and didn’t know how the Circle worked yet. Like she didn’t know he was chained up under their feet. Or worse. 

“You should be more concerned about yourself, Trevelyan.”

Knight-Commander  Tylger was a  big broad man in plate, but his entrance into Harrold’s office had still gone without her notice. She turned, taking in his imposing figure. He looked solid and stern.

“ Tylger ,” Harrold said.  Evie  heard him rise from his seat behind the desk. “I can handle the disciplining of an apprentice.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He sounded polite, respectful even, but he didn’t leave. Instead,  Tylger strode furt her into the room, and  Evie  stepped back instinctually. She felt tiny under his gaze .

Thirt een should m ean  she was grown-up , but it felt like more of the same.  Powerlessness  ate  at her, clawing  its way up her throat until she couldn’t stop the words that came next.

“You can’t  kill me ,” she warned. But couldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?

Tylger only raised a brow at her, seemingly content to wait for her explanation.

“You can’t do  _ anything _ _ , _ __ because my father is a  bann . And my Uncle is a  Templar . And my auntie is a Revered Mother .”

_ Ah, there it is _ , she thought. Because  Tylger’s face had gone a bit red, and he didn’t look interested anymore. He looked angry.  _ That  _ was exactly the wrong thing to say to him. 

“Trevelyan,” Harrold began in warning, but  Tylger only raised a hand, and the First Enchanter was silent again.

“You’re right, Apprentice Trevelyan.  I  _ can’t  _ kill you. Not for making a joke,”  Tylger said. His voice was quiet, which was worse than yelling, somehow. 

Evie  regretted her words then. Whatever he was about to say was going to be  terrible and terrifying and it would make her quiet and obedient and stupid. She  _ knew  _ it would. 

“I can’t kill you for making a joke. But the mage who defended you is not guilty of simple insolence. He attacked a member of the Order in front  of witnesses. You know the punishment for something like that.  _ His  _ father isn’t a  bann .”

Evie  was silent. Her words hadn’t helped  _ anything.  _ Tylger was throwing them back in her face already. She couldn’t tell the Knight-Commander that his men were liars and that  Harion hadn’t done any such thing. That wasn’t the point anymore.

She wondered for a sickening moment if whatever was going to happen to the other mage was entirely her fault. Maybe  Tylger had come to drag her off to the dungeons in  Harion’s place. Maybe they both would have gotten off with a warning. Until she’d thrown her family's connection in the Knight-Comm ander's face. 

Evie  felt suddenly that she might be sick all over First Enchanter Harrold’s nice Orle sian  rug. 

“Harrold, I want the girl sent back to her rooms. You’ll sign the paperwork for the elf’s Rite.”

“Of course, Knight-Commander,” Harrold answered immediately. He sounded  disappointed , but he didn’t even put up an  argument . 

Evie’s  stomach rioted.

_ Well, there  _ _ goes  _ _ supper.  _

_ *** _

Something about being locked in solitary for a few days always drove Evie a little mad.

Whether it was the loneliness, the smell, the cold or the hunger, she always came out a little rough around the edges. Last time she’d been put in for cursing at Ser  Rollens the morning after Jilly’s Harrowing. He’d taken special delight when he offered Evie his condolences.

This time s he’d gotten three days for spitting at Ser  Sinnead in the library , because the older woman had called  Garel a knife-ear . Garel was prickly about that word, more than Ellaria , and he’d looked ready to do something stupid .

Evie had done it for him. She  _ liked  _ doing the stupid things her friends couldn’t risk.  Not only did it feel nice to stick it to the bucket heads, but the next time a Templar said or did something to them, they always  acted smarter. Compared to her,  Garel looked like an obedient little mouse now , a nd he used to pick fights with  _ everyone _ .

Evie, after being released from the cold cell underneath the Circle, headed directly for her bunk. She knew Ellaria would be there, waiting to scold her. She loved when Ellaria scolded her, because then she’d drag  her off to swipe some  biscuits from the kitchen , or sometimes they’d head straight to Donovan, who wasn’t allowed to heal her cuts and bruises with magic, but was always willing to give her some salve.

The entire way there, though, felt like walking in a dream. Her steps felt heavy and unsteady . In the dungeons, one could chalk that up to the weight of your sins, but out in the corridor, she was practically a lamb. The odd thought made her laugh out loud, which set another mage glaring at her, because the sound had made her jump a bit.

“Pardon my manners,” Evie said. “I’m a sheep right now.”

The other mage hurried off, and Evie forgot about the whole interaction as soon as she reached the apprentices’ hall.

“I’m back, dears!” she announced, throwing her arms above her head as she crossed the threshold into her bunkroom. “Did you miss me?”

Ellaria practically tackled her with her hug. Evie let out a short little grunt of surprise, but she didn’t fight the hold. She liked hugging Ellaria—perhaps too much— partially because she was the only one of their friends who didn’t stand a head above her. 

“ Of course we did, you  _ idiot _ ,” Ellaria’s words were muffled slightly from where her face was pressed into Evie’s shoulder, but they still made her melt.

“Well isn’t this touching,” Finnegan grumbled from the doorway. He must have heard her commotion from across the way.  “You know, Evie, solitary doesn’t get you out of paying me back.”

“Paying you back?” Evie asked. She pulled out of Ellaria’s arms so she could give Finnegan her most  guileless smile.

“No, no, you don’t get to do that,” he said, pointing at her emphatically. “ _ You  _ were the one who  said, if I remember correctly, that if you wanted to, you could go a month without  seeing the color green. A ridiculous state ment, by-the-way. Now, pay up!”

“How do you know I lost?” she asked. “Do you think they have a greenhouse in the cells?”

He grinned arrogantly “No, but there’s plenty of algae on the walls. Donovan told me about it.”

“He was moping about you being gone,” Ellaria supplied, ignoring the glare he sent her in response. 

“That traitor!” Evie said, clutching her chest dramatically.

“What’s that, Evie?” Finnegan said, eyes training in on her hands. He grabbed one and inspected it closely. His smile faded.

W hen she looked down at her hands, all the nails were red around the edges and torn to shreds. Her hands felt sticky with blood .  That was the result of her last day in the cell, when she’d started hearing the strained whispers that were tell-tale of demons. She frowned, tugging at him gently to le t go of her.

“Oh, nothing. I just missed you lot so much I was climbing the walls in anticipation.” She shrugged. They at least had the grace of not looking too concerned, but Ellaria was dragging her  off to Donovan mere moments later, even after she complained about being starving

***

Donovan sighed at the sight of her.

The big bearded man was in the clinic, like he usually was, with Karri peering over his shoulder as he worked on a  patient. The pale little girl he was seeing to  had a few scrapes on her knees, probably the result of an accident.

The rest of the clinic was bustling. She saw a few clusters of mages watching their friends get treated for various small issues. At the back of the clinic, an old man sat by a window reading.

When they came in, he looked up briefly, sighed, and went back to rubbing ointment over the  apprentice's injury. Once that was done, the girl hopped out of bed, seemingly anxious to leave. 

“Go ahead, Elsie,” he said gently. “ And p lease be more careful on the stairs .”

Karri had hurried over as soon as they entered, and when she got to Evie, she bumped their hips together and led her back to the cot Donovan  knelt beside. The apprentice rushed past them all with a small smile.

“ Why’d you tell Finnegan about the green stuff?” Evie asked him. She pouted when he only chuckled at her. Donovan patted the cot, indicating that she should sit down where Elsie had been moments ago.

“Can’t be mad that he kept you honest,” Karri pointed out. She’d slung an arm around Finnegan’s shoulder, and seemed to be shaking his hand for his apparent victory. Evie glowered.

“I can be mad about loads of stuff,” Evie argued. “I could be mad at a thousand things a day, every day for a year, and still have room for more things to be mad about.”

“ Sure you could, Mouth,” Donovan told her, voice fond. “You’re the very picture of rage.”

“She’s the very picture of foolishness,” Ellaria said. She seemed  particularly put out today. Evie offered her an apologetic look, thrusting her damaged fingers out at Donovan. 

He whistled through his teeth at the raw skin and broken nails. “Your hands aren’t shovels, Evie.”

"Or at least not very good ones,” Karri joked. She sent Evie a sympathetic look, though.

The other girl had her own special relationship with the cells below. Her acts of rebellion were usually more eloquent than Evie’s, but they were no less frequent. 

Donovan patched her fingers up quickly and efficiently without any magic, as the rules prohibited any magic for  injuries related to punishments. Once she was all bandaged, Ellaria stood her back up and gave each of her fingers a kiss.

Evie flushed bright  red and let out a strained laugh. “What was  _ that  _ for?”

Ellaria seemed equally confused by her actions though, and only shrugged. Her cheeks were adorably pink.

Finnegan let out a groan at the pair of them, turning tail and fleeing with Karri at his side.

“They’re hopeless,” Karri declared on the way out. 

***

She  _ was  _ hopeless. In every way that could be true, it was.

Every time Evie looked at Ellaria, her stomach was sent into knots that took hours to go away. This might have been fine if they didn’t spend most of their time together , but they did. Each moment she sat beside Ellaria in the library, each glance they shared over the dining table, all of it sent images of the other girl bending forwards slightly to kiss her fingers . 

The thoughts became unavoidable, and then they started being replaced by new scenarios. Ellaria, pressing Evie up against the wall of a closet, kissing the breath out of her lungs. Ellaria kneeling above h er on one of their bunks, playing with the clasps of her robes. It was unending. Every fantasy Evie  ever had was rearing its head, but replacing the faceless  figures from before was Ellaria, with her delicate features and her big bright eyes.

All of her other friends seemed to know just what was happening, too. Finnegan kept sending them suspicious glances if they came into the library together, and Karri was constantly  _ giggling  _ at her. 

Evie wondered just when this had shifted, this nameless thing between them. Because she felt it had always been there. She remembered the ways Ellaria made her feel, and this wasn’t wholly different from the fluttering she ’d dealt with as a child, it was just  _ deeper _ . But for the same reasons she’d never done anything about it when she was eleven, Evie stayed quiet.

She didn’t want to Ellaria to look at her after her confession and  laugh or give her a sad smile and shake her head , like she did when she wanted to say no bu t was being kind.  And if she didn’t do either of those things? If Ellaria happened to return her feelings in a significant way, they were still out of luck. Big sweeping romances didn’t happen in the Circle.  Ga rel and Karri had been involved for a while, but they’d ended it amicably weeks ago. 

When Finnegan had asked  Garel why, the elf had sent him a searing look and  told him, “N either of us is fool enough to think we could have  anything more.”

If the Templars caught you passing time with another mage, that was one thing; you’d get a slap on the wrist and a stern talking-to from a Senior Enchanter. But if the Templars got it into their head that you  _ cared  _ about another mage, someone might get transferred. Or they’d simply  disappear . 

No, it was better if Evie never pushed for anything from Ellaria; because she didn’t know if she could settle for simply passing time. 

***

“What was your family like?”

The words startled Evie out of light sleep, and she gave a little grumble when she saw Ellaria peering at her from above. The elf was leaning over the edge of her own bunk, bright eyes flaring in the dark of the room.

“What?” she groaned. Evie rubbed a hand over her face before glancing about to make sure they hadn’t woken anyone else. “Why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Ellaria mumbled. Quietly, the other girl clambered out of bed, taking care not to step on Evie when she hopped down.

Evie let out another small groan, before  lifting the blanket and shoving over so Ellaria could lay down next to her. 

This sort of thing didn’t happen a lot anymore, hadn’t since they were children, but it was familiar to welcome another apprentice under your blanket when they were homesick and couldn’t sleep.  Except it had always been Evie pestering Ellaria.

“What were they like?” Ellaria asked once she’d settled into Evie’s side.

“You’ve heard my stories before,” Evie complained. 

“Those were just stories though, and I want to know what they were like. It’s different.” She turned slightly and tucked her face against Evie’s neck.

Evie tried to reign in her heart, tried to ignore what the breath on her skin was doing.  Pinching her  leg a bit to focus, she tried to determine just what Ellaria wanted to hear.

“You want to know what kind of people they were? I think you’ll be  disappointed .”

“I could never be  disappointed by you,” Ellaria assured her, “Please? I remember so little about my parents.”

Evie swallowed and nodded. “They’re noble. That says a lot about who they are. But I remember my mother being very kind. You’ve read her letters—she always wants to know how I’m fe eling.”

“Do you lie because you think it will hurt her?” Ellaria asked. The question struck Evie in the heart. If it had been anyone else, she might have reacted in anger, or made a  joke. 

But it was Ellaria, so she nodded. “Or because I’m afraid she won’t care.”

“What about your  papae ? I think mine might have been  Dalish , but I’m not sure.”

“Well mine certainly isn’t  Dalish ,” Evie said. “I don’t remember him well at all. He had a beard, and sometimes he would read to us.”

“But you were so much older than me when you came to the Circle,” Ellaria said softly. “I was only five, but you were, what nine?”

Evie shook her head, “It doesn’t matter.  They’re not really my family anymore. I have a new family now.”

Ellaria hummed quietly. “Why not both?” She raised her head to stare at Evie through the dark. 

“Because I only have so much space in my head for you. If I started trying to remember the Trevelyan’s, I’d forget  how Karri likes her porridge in the morning, or when Donovan’s birthday is. Or which one of you is afraid of spiders.”

Ellaria reached out to shove  lightly at her shoulder, and Evie grinned. “What?” she laughed.

“ _ You’re  _ the one who put those cobwebs in my blanket. ”

“Those cobwebs came with a spider attached. Finnegan put both of them in your bed.  _ I’m  _ the reason you didn’t see the spider.”

Ellaria leaned forward, still laughing, to press her  forehead up against Evie’s.

It felt safe, and warm, wrapped up in the blanket together. Evie forgot all of her awkwardness and fear about Ellaria. None of it mattered in this perfect instance.

“I think you’re my favorite person in the whole world,” Evie breathed. Her bravery would probably come back to bite her in the morning, but she couldn’t dwell on it.

Ellaria didn’t answer for a moment, and Evie watched her eyes widen for a second. Evie opened her mouth to explain herself, but then she felt Ellaria’s lips brush her own.

Evie leaned into the kiss without another thought.

***

There was a strange woman wandering the Circle. She was in the library now,  skimming the section on Entropy magic.

“Do you think  s he’s  from the Chantry? ” E vie  asked Ellaria. 

The o ther  girl simply shrugged, trying to focus on her reading. She didn’t have time to feed Ev ie’s  curiosity. Their fingers were twisted together under the table, but they sat apart otherwise.

They were  sitting in the library, preparing for an exam for  Senior Enchanter Dinah. Not that there was much to prepare for. Dinah had a habit of giving them very esoteric tasks to complete rather than focusing on theory. She’d explained that it was fitting for the Spirit school, but it seemed like it was just needlessly difficult.  Donovan liked Dinah,  though,  so E vie  was sure it wasn’t just some elabo rate path to failure. 

It was better to trust Donovan’s judgment over her own, because otherwise Ev ie  just ended up in trouble.  She was both lucky and cursed by that impulsive decision to  befriend the  Starkhaven transfers. Lucky, because they were a whole head more trustworthy than some of the Loyalists at  Ostwick , and curse d because it kept the lot of them under heavy Templar scrutiny. 

Not only was she a troublemaker now, but she was a troublemaker who made friends with  _ Libertarians _ . 

“Do you think she’s a Grey Warden?” Ev ie  pressed. “She doesn’t look like one of those old  Chantry  biddies. She looks  _ dangerous _ .”

Ellaria sent her a pained look. F or  anyone else, looking dangerous would have sounded fearful, but E vie  said it with reverence. 

“I’m not sure, Evie,” Ellaria finally answered. She swept a lock of her golden hair behind a pointed ear, and E vie  tried not to let her breath catch.

“Yeah, but I want you to  _ guess _ ,” Evie pressed. “What if she’s a bard or a knight.”

Ellaria made a point of closing her book very  loudly and sat back. Her luminous brown - green eyes darted towards the stranger for just a second.  Her fingers tightened on Evie’s own under the table.

“Evie, that’s not a knight,” she sighed. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. How did Ellaria know that? “She has armor on!”

“Amor isn’t what makes you a knight,” Ellaria laughed. “Don’t you know that? I thought  your Uncle was a knight?”

Evie soured. “He’s a  _ Templar _ . Both of my uncles are Templars. They don’t count.”

“They have a ser before their names, don’t they?”

“Being called ser doesn’t make you a knight,” Evie said. She smiled when Ellaria pouted at having her words thrown back at her. “Being a knight is about being a hero. They have a code.”

“I think we heard different stories about knights,” Ellaria muttered.

“Oh! Do tell!” Finnegan had come out of nowhere, just like he normally did. He slung one of the  chairs around and sat backward in it, arms resting heavily on the back. Karri was close behind him,  although her face was flushed like she’d b een running.

“Wait up, you barbarian,” she snapped. 

“Hurry up, you slowpoke. Evie is going to tell us about  _ knights _ !” he teased, no malice in his tone.

Karri sat down,  slinging herself equally ungracefully across a chair.  “Why are we talking about knights?”

“Because I think that woman’s a knight,” Evie said. She turned slightly and gave a nod at the stranger.

Finnegan snorted. “She’s not a knight, stupid.”

“How do  _ you  _ know?” Evie snapped. She hated not knowing things, and the fact that it was Finnegan who had a leg up on gossip was irritating. Finnegan never paid attention to anything interesting. He was always talking about the mousers in the kitchen, or how the herb garden was looking. He only cared about weird th ings like that.

“The healers were talking about  her  last night after lessons,” Finnegan shrugged. “Said she’s The Divine’s bird or something.”

“The Divine’s bird?” Karri blinked. “You mean the Nightengale?”

“What? No. She didn’t call her that. Called her a little bird or something.”

“Who’s the Nightengale?” Ellaria asked. She’d thoroughly given up on studying, then. Evie was relieved. She’d gotten very bored, sitting next to her pretending to study as well.  They were getting closer and closer to their  Harrowings . Evie was only 1 9 , so she  guessed she had a year or two , but Ellaria was  21 , and it could happen at any time, really. Ellaria was brilliant, so Evie wasn’t worried, but Ellaria was focusing more on her lessons, which meant more time in the library. It was  _ dreadfully  _ boring. She wanted to go down to the storeroom and talk to Donovan anyway, and she knew Karri would come if she asked.

“I don’t really know.  Somebody important. But  _ that’s  _ not her,” Finnegan said. “I think the healer meant the woman was a spy, and importa nt people can’t be spies because everyone knows who they are.”

“Why would the Divine send someone to spy  on  _ Ostwick _ ?” Evie asked. It all sounded incredibly ridiculous to her. “Nothing happens here.”

“Because of what’s happening in Kirkwall,  _ obviously _ ,” Karri supplied. “Everyone knows the Kirkwall Circle is a disaster. Maybe the Divine wants to know if  it's bad other places too.”

“But no one cares about us,” Evie pointed out. “We’re just mages.”

“Don’t say that,” Ellaria said. “You sound like a Templar.”

Evie’s anger flared at the insinuation. “I do not!” she replied hotly. 

“ _ Fine _ , you sound like Rendel,” Finnegan said. He was smirking at her.

That was almost  _ worse _ . The very idea galled her.

Without another word, Evie rose from the table. When her friends cried out, attempting to call her back, she ignored them. If they were going to be rude, she was going to be sulky.  She’d been feeling irritable all morning anyway.

She left the library without a word, unsure just where she was heading. Probably, she’d go back to her bunk and  stew  for a while.  _ Rendel _ . As if she was anything of the sort.

As apprentices got older, they settled themselves into a few camps. Friendships formed during the worst years, when young mages were still reeling from being taken from their  homes,  faded as each of them  decided how their lives were going to proceed. It seemed silly, to make that decision so young, but any older, and it would be too late.

Apprentices like Rendel made the, perhaps wise, decision to bend themselves to the Templars will. It helped if they believed in the Chant, like Rendel did, because the thing was practically  written with mages who hated themselves in mind. Rendel was a  proficient student because that was what the Maker had decided he should be, but he talked about himself and the other ma ges like they were  _ already  _ abominations.  Evie was  _ nothing  _ like Rendel. 

She’d made her decisions, made her  allegiance clear. She knew who she was. But it didn’t make the world they lived in any different. They really  _ were  _ just mages. That meant a lot of different things to a lot of different mages, but  to Evie it meant two very important facts were true.

Fact one: no one really cared about  you. This was  fairly evident , even from simple observation. 

Evelyn Trevelyan  had  been an important girl, as far as little girls went. Her father was a  bann , and her whole family was wrapped up with the Chantry.  Her future had been something people would study, because she might marry well, or become a powerful figure in the  Chantry . She might have even been a Templar, defending the good people of  Thedas from the threat of foul  mal eficarum . 

Evie the Circle mage was nothing to anyone. It didn’t matter what Senior Enchanter Theresa said to her sometimes, when she was being admonished—that a girl of her status could “make something of herself”  in spite of her magic—no one outside the Circle would ever care.

Fact two was less evident, maybe, but it was still true: The Circle would tear you apart one day. 

It didn’t have to be a big, dramatic ending. One didn’t have to be killed or made Tranquil to be ruined by the Circle. In fact, some people were ruined by quite mundane things. Whether the paranoia of being watched at all hours of the day eventually drove you  mad, or a life of total imprisonment turned you old and weak and useless, it didn’t matter.

One day, she and all her friends would be ground down to nothing under the heels of the Templars. It had already  happened to so many of them.

Jilly had failed her Harrowing, and now she was dead. 

Harion had been made tranquil for defending Evie from the hard blows of a Templar.

And now... Now  _ Ellaria  _ was in danger. 

S he’d noticed a few weeks before, how Ser Hoss’s eyes followed Ellaria around the classrooms. She’d mentioned it offhandedly, and Ellaria had made the proper changes. She’d stopped brushing her hair in the morning trying to look unappealing , and stopped being the same places, as much as an apprentice could. She did it all the smart way. Evie knew if it was her, she would have already done something drastic and gotten herself tossed in solitary.

Evie never said anything beyond the usual warnings mages gave each other when they fell under the singular attentions of Templars —t hings like “Ser What ’ s -His- Name  ha s  been staring at you all afternoon” or “Ser Ugly-Face was joking about you last night during supper ”— kindnesses that almost never helped. But that was only because Ellaria always looked so uncomfortable when she tried to talk about it. Evie didn’t want to ruin their time together talking about Hoss. Ignoring it wasn’t helping, though.

I t was  actually  getting worse. He was stationed in the baths much more often now. It was an obvious sign that  Tylger liked him; everyone knew only the  _ favorites  _ got th at duty . He’d made his interest very clear. He still called her bunny , and sometimes at dinner Evie could feel his eyes on them the entire time . That level of fixation was never going to end well.

Evie knew it was harder for elves. It had been made abun dantly clear to her from the very beginning. The elves didn’t get to keep their letters from home—if they even got them—and elves didn’t have the luxury of back talking the Templars frequently.  _ Evie  _ had that luxury.  She’d even gotten good at it. 

But she had stopped doing it while there were more vulnerable people around. She  tried not to  sass the Templars when Ellaria was around anymore . Or a Tranquil, because Ser  Quentyn —squeaky, stupid Ser  Quentyn —had discovered very early on that Evie  could  _ always  _ be convinced to apologize if he made a threat against a Tranquil.

But if it was just her, or one of the Enchanters, or some of the other mages from  noble houses , she didn’t hold herself back.  If it was Karri and Finnegan, she tried to reign it in, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself.  She’d earned quite a collection of  stories to tell her friends from moments like that. And some beatings.

If she was smarter, or simply more cunning, she might have figured out a way to use her family name to protect her friends—written about them more frequently in her letters home,  for one—but it felt like a losing battle.

Her mother’s letters still came, occasionally, but Evie didn’t read them anymore. Her letters back were brief, filled with meaningless pleasantries and  empty promises to behave. Writing to ask for leniency for her friends had never worked before, why would it work now? She couldn’t very well send Helena Trevelyan a letter begging her to have a Templar punished be cause Evie thought he was going to hurt her elven friend in an awful, terrible way she had no proof of. Besides her own eyes.

What good were a mage’s eyes?

“Trevelyan?” 

A nother apprentice, one of Harrold’s favorites,  came rushing down the hallway towards her , interrupting her  paranoid thoughts . 

Evie looked around herself, and realized she was in the hall outside her dormitory. It was where she’d been aiming to get, but the fact that she could barely remember her trip was alarming. After a brief flash of panic, she blinked.

“Yes?” she asked. 

“First Enchanter wants to speak to you in his office. Said it was important ,” he said. 

“I was going back to my bunk,” Evie said, because she couldn’t stop herself from arguing. It didn’t matter if her plans for the day added up to a whole lot of sulking and staring off into space; she didn’t relish whatever chat Harrold wanted to  have with her.

“The Knight-Commander is there, with another Templar,” the apprentice said, like that was supposed to make her want to go  _ more _ . It didn’t, but it  certainly made ignoring the summons riskier. Evie let out the loudest, most put upon sigh she could, to signal her displeasure, but nodded.

“Another Templar?” she asked. “No one we know, I suppose.”

The apprentice sent her an annoyed look. “I didn’t recognize him.”

“What, am I getting assigned to the welcome committee?”

He snorted. “Keep it up, Trevelyan. The Knight-Commander loves listening to your jokes.”

“You wish. As if I’d do my routine for a bunch of bucket-heads anyway,” she snapped. Evie wasn’t particularly careful with her words, barely glancing around as they walk ed, to make sure there wasn’t a Templar around. It made the apprentice nervous; she could tell. “They never appreciate the humor. Bunch of philistines.”

“You’re impossible,” he huffed.

She tried to keep the rapport going, if for nothing else than because the walk up the steps to Harrold’s office was a long one, but the apprentice only sent her a series of increasingly poisonous looks. By the time he’d finally gotten her up to the Enchanter’s floor, he  was ready to bolt.

“First Enchanter, I brought Apprentice Trevelyan,” the boy reported before she’d even gotten into the office. He was gone without another word. She let out an unkind laugh as she strolled in.

Evie let her slippers scuff against the  edge of Harrold’s Orlesian rug. It wasn’t the same one she’d puked on. She studied the pattern for a second, letting the occupants wait for just a split second before  she looked up.

And blinked.

Uncle was sitting in a chair beside  Tylger , holding his helmet against his side.

First Enchanter looked ready to leap out of his chair at any moment, and when Evie finally looked up, he sent her a put-upon look.

“Evelyn, thank you for your  _ promptness _ ,” he said. It wasn’t genuine, which was confusing.  No one had told her she was meant to be meeting the First Enchanter today. 

“First Enchanter!” she greeted, putting too much cheeriness into the greeting to compensate for the no doubt obvious shock on her face. Her eyes kept darting towards Uncle  Thomas . What the hell was he doing here?

“Trevelyan,”  Tylger said, and his voice held a note of warning.

“Knight-Commander,” she replied, decidedly less cheerfully. “Ser  Thomas ,” she tacked on, just in case.

Uncle  Thomas o nly grunted.

“I was under the impression she’d been informed,”  Tylger said, sending Uncle  Thomas a lo ok that would have been startled on someone less stern. It settled closer to constipation for him.  “She doesn’t look informed.”

“Her mother sent her the letter months ago,” Uncle Roger said. Evelyn was struck at how unfamiliar his low, rumbling voice was, even though she remembered it from childhood. He sounded more  like a stranger than apprentices who’d come to the Circle months ago, friends she’d only known for a handful of years.

“Perhaps the letter was misplaced?” Harrold suggested. It sounded innocent, but  everyone in the room knew that  plenty of letters got tossed without anyone bothering to deliver them to the  Circle  mages. “Evelyn, you didn’t receive a letter from you mother about special dispensation to travel home?”

Well,  _ that  _ was interesting. The last letter she’d gotten from her mother had gone as unread as the rest of them. She’d only caught Max’s name a few times before she tossed it away to check if the Templars had left anything of the small care-package that had come with it. They hadn’t , but she hadn’t checked the letter again to see what she missed out on.

“Uh, no,” she answered. It felt like the safest response.

Tylger let out a frustrated  growl . “Of course not.”

“You replied,” Uncle  Thomas  said. You could always trust a Templar to ruin the day. 

“Did I? That’s odd.”

“Evelyn, did you get the letter?” Harrold pressed. He was scowling at her under those bushy eyebrows of his, but she only sighed.

“I must have forgotten,” she replied innocently. “Pardon me.”

“Enough about the bloody letter,”  Tylger snapped. “It hardly matters now. The paperwork is already done. Ser Roger will be t aking you to  Ostwick to celebrate your brother’s vows to the Order. You’re leaving today.”

Evie took that in as quickly as she could. She was leaving the Circle. She was  _ leaving  _ the  _ Circle _ . It felt wrong in the worst way . Evie had never been given dispensation before—a few of the other noble mages had, occasionally, but her parents had never made a request. The very idea was too strange to consider. And fo r such an event. Little baby Max was going to be a bucket head, or already was one, really, because the vows only followed the training.  _ Huh _ . 

“Today?” she asked. “What about supper?”

“Supper?” Uncle  Thomas q uestioned. “Are you daft, girl?”

“Depends on who you ask,” she muttered, but there was little heart behind the joke. “Can I pack? What about my lessons? How long will I be gone?”

Uncle  Thomas  gave another grunt .

“If you’d read the  _ letter _ ,” Harrold said, “you would know that you’ll only be gone a few days. A week at most. And I’ve already talked to  your teachers.”

“Can I pack?” she repeated. Perhaps ignoring her mother’s letter had been a short-sighted plan. She wondered if Uncle  Thomas expected to leave right then. If so, that was a problem. She had to tell her friends, so they wouldn’t worry, and she’d need to bring ext ra underthings, and maybe a spare robe. 

Tylger’s head dropped for a moment, into his hands, before he shot her a level stare. “You have an hour. Ser  Thomas  and I will be waiting for you in the front hall.”

Evie gave a short nod and took off without another word. Rude probably, but then, she only had an hour, right?


	2. sister cried (brother let me breath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell Trevelyan did not look anything like the crying six-year-old she remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family sucks sometimes.

Ostwick was only a day’s ride from its Circle if you were dawdling—which they were because Evie had never ridden a horse before—and she spent the entire time clutching desperately to a saddle and trying to pretend she was executing a daring escape. The effect was ruined a little by the constant Templar presence, a Templar who’d been given her phylactery, but since conversation hadn’t been an option, a girl had only her fantasies to keep her company. 

Uncle Thomas was _dreadfully_ grim. Evie had spent the entire trip trying for some conversation, but he met each of her attempts with grunts or glares. 

She contented herself with watching the scenery. She’d never been outside of those large stone walls, not since she was a child. The land that separated Ostwick from its Circle was scrubby and brown, but she still delighted in each new sight. In the distance, she saw the distant spot of black that was her family’s city. Evie preferred this expanse of earth. There met very few travelers, but the ones they did see gave them a wide berth. 

She’d been absorbing all the _space_ around them for hours when Ostwick finally rose ahead of them to its full height. It was a constant spec on the journey, but the closer they got, the bigger it seemed. 

“Are we headed to the manor?” she asked, not expecting an answer. Uncle Thomas surprised her. 

“Edwin hasn’t lived in that country house in years,” he snapped. Like she should know that. Probably in one of Mother’s letters. 

“Into the city, then?” she asked. He grunted. 

Apparently, their new home was a sprawling manse in the middle of the city. After Uncle Thomas had disposed of their horse—he hadn’t killed it or anything, but Evie was too busy marveling at her surroundings to really remember where it had gone off to—they'd made quick work up to its grand front steps. A younger Evie would have demanded to be allowed to see more of Ostwick, but the idea seemed foolish even as the desire rose. 

Evie imagined asking to be allowed to stop and talk to one of the vendors she’d seen down on the street and almost burst out laughing. As if kind old Uncle Thomas would agree to anything like that. He had a death grip on her upper arm as if he was afraid she’d burst apart into demons at the slightest provocation. The _horror_. 

As soon as they’d gotten past the front doors—grand things absolutely covered in gilt and carved horses—they were surrounded by elven servants. Evie’s skin itched at the sight of them. She imagined how Ellaria would react to it and flushed red with guilt. They were taking Uncle Thomas’s cloak, but he wasn’t even looking at them. One of the younger girls put out her hands in Evie’s direction, and she stared at her for a moment, confused. 

“Your bag, my lady,” the elf prompted. “And you’re cloak?” 

Evie nodded awkwardly. “Oh, right. Sure.” 

She was almost sorry to see the cloak go; she didn’t have one back at the Circle normally. They didn’t go outside much besides to garden or gather herbs, and never when it was cold. But it felt weirder to hold onto it than just give it up. She shrugged the cloak off, followed quickly by the bag. 

“Thanks,” she breathed when the elf girl took them and stepped back politely. 

“Come along, girl,” Uncle Thomas barked. He was already leaving the servants behind, striding past a set of broad steps down a corridor. 

Evie hurried to catch up after tossing the servants a quick smile and another thank you on her Uncle’s behalf. He hadn’t bothered with one. 

This place had so many damned doors. The Circle didn’t have any doors in the common areas, just in the Templar barracks and at the front. They lined the corridor Uncle Thomas led her down. She was seized with curiosity about each of them, but he didn’t pause at any of them. She reached him just as he opened _another_ large wooden door into a room that looked a little bit like the common rooms the mage’s had on the higher floor. 

It was occupied by several people she recognized distantly as her family. Like with Uncle Thomas, Evie was struck by how much like strangers they seemed. 

“Evelyn!” Mother exclaimed. She was seated on a big cushioned armchair near the back of the room, by a window. When Evie entered, she rose and stepped towards her. Her pace was sedate, but her smile was broad. 

Evie offered a tentative smile of her own. “Hullo, Mother.” 

“I’m so happy you’re here!” her mother said. She stopped just in front of Evie, sweeping her eyes over her. “You’ve gotten so tall!” 

Evie couldn’t help the snorting laugh those words elicited. Evie was shorter than everyone she knew, except Ellaria, but that was only because she was an elf. “Not hardly,” she said. “I’m just taller than I was when I was eight.” 

The words weren’t meant to sound as bitter as they did. 

Mother’s smile shrunk a little, but she pressed on with forced cheerfulness. “Of course, dear. But you _have_ gotten so big! And so beautiful!” 

Evie gave her a skeptical look. “Thank you, Mother.” 

“Very lovely,” her father piped up. He'd stood as well at the sight of her, and was standing a little way away, hands on his hips. His hair, which had been as dark as hers last she’d remembered, was now completely gray. He looked old. The smile he offered her was strained. 

“Will you please come say hello to your sister,” Mother asked, glancing over her shoulder and aiming a sweeping gesture of her hand at the room at large. 

Three tall figures all rose from seats around the room. 

Evie took them all in with wide eyes. Edwin was the first to approach, and his smile seemed little easier than her father's, but less effusive than Mother’s. He’d grown a little fat around the middle, but he was still handsome regardless, with light blue eyes and a dashing look about him. 

“Good to see you, Evelyn,” he offered in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Hope the Circle’s treated you well.” 

Evie gave him another smile, not having to fake it only because she was thinking about exactly how she’d tell her friends this story when she got back. That was going to get a big laugh. 

Elisabet stood slightly behind Edwin, her arm locked with a man Evie didn’t know. Her sister was still beautiful, still covered in Orlesian cosmetics, and still dressed like she expected to meet a visiting dignitary. Her day-gown was all silk and satin, in the Trevelyan colors of blue and grey. 

“It’s delightful that you’re here,” Elisabet said. She swooped in without warning, pressing two dry kisses to Evie’s cheeks before detaching from her. “This is my husband, Lord Reginald Rollens.” 

So, this was Bet’s husband, whose brother liked to hurt children. Evie turned her gaze on him for only a second. He was just as richly attired and beautiful as Elisabet, with a particularly sharp look in his eyes. She nodded. 

“Do you remember that letter I sent you when I was married?” Elisabet asked. She was frowning at Evie. Maybe she was unimpressed with her reaction? Did she want more jealousy? 

Evie nodded again. “I remember it. And the other one.” 

“Yes well,” Elisabet said, frowning harder. “You remember that Reg’s brother is a Templar at your Circle? How is he? Lady Rollens worries after him so.” 

“You could ask him,” Evie said, giving her sister a puzzled look. Didn’t Templars know how to write letters? Maybe Rollens didn’t. 

“Evelyn,” her mother gasped. “Your sister is asking you a question!” 

Evie’s mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, and she imagined she looked quite like a fish out of water—she certainly felt enough like one. The feeling of being scolded by one’s mother was an odd one to experience after so long. The scolding she usually got consisted of more fists than anything. Or chains, sometimes, if she’d been particularly naughty. 

“Now, girls,” her father said. His face was shifting between emotions faster than Evie could follow, but he seemed to have landed on something like good-natured disappointment. “Let’s not get carried away.” 

“I’m sure Evelyn’s just unused to polite company,” Edwin offered quietly. “Uncle Thomas isn’t exactly the best conversationalist.” He shot Uncle Thomas a grin, signaling that the jibe was well-meant. And Evie almost exclaimed when Uncle Thomas smiled back. 

She didn’t know his face _did_ that. Just like a bucket head to sit stone-faced when faced with good jokes and then smile at inferior ones. 

“I didn’t take any offense, my dear,” Elisabet’s husband—Reginald, ugh, what a ridiculous name—offered. His tone dripped with condescension. “We can’t expect your sister to keep track of the entire Order stationed in the Circle.” 

“Still,” Elisabet pressed, offering him a small smile. “I’m sure your mother would love to hear from him. Gregory is so brief in his letters.” 

Evie _couldn’t_ believe this was happening. Elisabet wanted her to...what? Did she want her to fawn over _Rollens_? 

Mother seemed to have noticed something shift on Evie’s face, because she placed a light hand on her shoulder. “Evelyn, dear, I’m sure you must know Ser Rollens.” 

She barely repressed a scream of rage, but Evie knew she wasn’t getting out of this one. “Your brother is a very capable Templar. His amour is always polished very well, and he stands _very_ still when he’s on duty at supper.” It was the only thing she could think to say. She refused to lie. “Sharp ears, too. He can hear a joke at his expense clear across the hall.” 

They all stared at her. So that had been wrong too. Evie sighed. 

“ _Mother_ ,” Elisabet said, and her voice sounded very close to a whine. 

“Evelyn,” her father said. His face had solidified even faster now, and he looked upset. 

“ _I_ thought it was funny,” a voice said from behind the lot of them. Evie’s eyes narrowed in on the source. 

A boy—no, a man—was seated on a small couch tucked into the corner. His large frame took up most of the space, and he was dressed in a less formal set of Templar armor than she was used to. No heavy plate, just some well-made chain mail and a shiny breastplate with the flaming sword. He wore a short sword at his hip, and a few daggers were sheathed opposite them. None of Edwin’s softness showed on him, for all that they looked strikingly similar. Even though he was only eighteen, he already looked like any full-grown bucket-head Evie would pass in the corridor at Ostwick. 

Maxwell Trevelyan did not look anything like the crying six-year-old she remembered. He claimed to think her joke was funny, but he didn’t look like he was laughing. 

“Hello Evelyn,” he said. His voice took on a questioning note. _Maker,_ but she didn’t know what it meant. 

“Don’t encourage your sister, Maxwell,” Mother said. 

“Wouldn’t dare, Mother,” he said breezily. He stood from the couch, hand falling to rest easily against the pommel of his sword as he joined their little cluster. 

Evie took an instinctual step back, even though that would only put her closer to Uncle Thomas. Because Max wasn’t just _any_ bucket-head. He looked like those hard-edged Templars who came to the Circle every now and again to take a phylactery before rushing off into the night in search of escapees. He looked like a real mage-hunter, not a Templar stationed at a Circle. 

Once, when Evie was fourteen, one of the mages had managed to slip off into the forests around the Circle. He'd been a recently caught apostate, a Dalish elf who’d rankled under the constant watch of the Templars. Everyone knew apostates who’d managed to reach adulthood without being captured never stood a chance, so no one had been surprised when he’d run off. But Evie had been in the entrance hall, bothering one of the visiting merchants with Finnegan, when the mage-hunters had brought him back. He’d been beaten so badly Evie almost hadn’t recognized him. 

She’d wondered why in the world they’d even bothered to lug him all the way to the Circle in such a state, sick with guilt the entire time. It had only occurred to her later that it had been a show for them all. _Here's what happens when you run._

And Max was one of them. 

“Maxwell,” she managed, but her voice was barely above a whisper. She reached up and grabbed her braid, fingers tugging harshly at the sweaty strands of hair. Evie wanted to put it into her mouth like she’d done when she was little, but she was afraid he might laugh. Or maybe Mother would scold her again. 

“Oh, now you’ve gone and scared her,” Edwin laughed nervously. He stepped around Max, who was taller by a few inches, and offered Evie a smile. “Don’t worry, Evelyn. Max isn’t even a real Templar yet.” 

Uncle Thomas gave a disapproving grunt from behind her, and Max sent Edwin a sharp look. He shouldn’t have even bothered, though, because it didn’t make her feel any better. He looked like a real Templar, and that was enough. 

“Why don’t we go to the dining room? We’ll call the servants to serve dinner.” Mother suddenly exclaimed. Her voice sounded frayed at the edges. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” her father said after a brief but awkward pause. 

“She _was_ worried about missing a meal,” Uncle Thomas said. 

Evie fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him. What she _really_ wanted was to be lead to wherever she would be sleeping tonight—she wouldn’t call it her room because it really wasn’t—so she could hide from all of them until it was time to go back to the Circle. 

But if years at the Circle taught you anything, it was that you _never_ passed up a meal. You never knew when a Templar would get impatient with you and toss you into solitary to smarten up. 

Evie let her mother lead her out of the room and through another bloody door—did these things grow on trees? _Ha_ —into a small but well-appointed dining room. Mother practically dragged her to her assigned chair, the one she remembered sitting at as a child. It was near the door, which settled her for about a second, before she remembered who used to sit next to her. 

Max offered her a lazy smile when he sidled up next to her, cutting off her best route of escape. Not that she would have attempted it, with two Templars ready to smite her in the room, but still. He pulled the chair out and sat in a single smooth movement. 

The conversation was stilted at best, as they waited for the servants to bring out the meal. 

“How are your studies going?” her father asked, all distant politeness and interest. 

She couldn’t help glancing at Max before she answered. He wasn’t looking at her. In deep contemplation, she was sure. “Fine. I’m...well, I think my Harrowing might come soon. Ellaria—that's another apprentice—she's helping me study.” 

“That’s wonderful!” Mother gushed. “I’m _sure_ you’ll do fine with your test dear. You’re such a capable scholar.” 

How she sounded so assured of that, Evie didn’t know. What about her indicated that she was scholarly? If her mother was noting the stains of ink that were scattered across her sleeves, she was deeply mistaken. Those were from a prank she and Karri had played on Rendel last month. 

“This Ellaria, is she like you?” Reginald asked. Whatever did he mean by that? 

“Is she a mage?” she asked, frowning at him. “Of course.” 

Elisabet laughed at her like she’d said something foolish. “No, Evelyn. Reginald is wondering if she’s from a good family. An acquaintance of ours has a cousin at the Circle in Starkhaven. The man’s done quite well for himself. Tiphani’s aunt said he might be a Senior Enchanter by next year.” 

“She’s an elf,” Evie said. She didn’t care about Tiphani’s stupid cousin. Being a Senior Enchanter was stupid anyway. All that meant was that one day you might be Grand Enchanter, and they didn’t do _anything_. Donovan told her no one with any real opinions got to be Grand Enchanter. “Is that Tiphani woman’s cousin an Aequitarian?” 

Probably he was, but Evie thought it was the sort of question that Elisabet would like her to ask. Or she wouldn’t know what that meant, which was even better. 

“An elf?” Elisabet asked. Her mouth turned down in a little pout. 

“What’s an aequitarian?” Edwin asked. He sounded desperate to stop whatever line of question Elisabet was cooking up. 

“Yes, dear, what’s _that_?” Mother rushed to add before reaching out for her goblet of wine and took a heathy swallow. 

Evie started when Max let out a little chuckle, his shoulder accidentally brushing hers. 

“Yes, do tell,” he drawled. 

Evie sank a little into her chair. “The Enchanters have fraternities at the Circles. I don’t know anyone who’s in one, though. I don’t talk to many enchanters, besides my teachers. They’re always busy.” 

“Yes, but what’s an aequitarian?” Max prodded her. 

Evie reached out an unsteady hand for her own cup of wine. She took a bracing drink before she began. “They’re moderates. They believe in helping people with magic. First Enchanter Harrold is a member.” 

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Elisabet said, but she still looked sour about how this conversation had shifted. 

They were interrupted briefly by the arrival of dinner. Evie stared down at the plate the elven serving woman place in front of her. A fancy-looking pile of greens sat under a shiny looking dressing. Was _this_ dinner? She tried to hide her disappointment. 

“What about the rest of the fraternities?” Edwin asked between a bite of his greens. He seemed quite happy with them, so Evie tried a piece. She chewed slowly, trying to review her options. She didn’t think Max would accept an answer of ignorance. 

“There are the loyalists,” she offered weakly after she’d swallowed. Evie might not remember all her table manners, but she knew you didn’t speak with your mouth full. “They’re chantry apo--” 

She broke off with a cough. Chantry apologists. That’s what Donovan and Karri called them, but she doubted anyone at the table would take that kindly. “They believe in following the Chant exactly as it’s written. And Lucrosians, but they’re a fringe group. They care about money, I think. I don’t think any of the Enchanter’s at Ostwick are members.” 

“Sounds like the Merchant’s Guild,” Father joked. Edwin gave a reedy laugh. “Imagine dwarves at a Circle!” 

“That would be a disaster,” Evie agreed, trying to sound lighthearted. “We’d have to hem all the robes.” 

“What about the rest of the fraternities?” Reginald asked. “I find this absolutely fascinating. I wasn’t aware Circles had such organized politics.” 

“Enchanter Relnas is an isolationist,” Evie said, “He told us once that we should all just run off into the wild and start our own country. I don’t think they’re a very large group either. Everyone laughed when Relnas said that.” 

“That does sound quite silly,” Edwin offered mildly. “I can hardly imagine mage’s cobbling their own shoes or farming their own land.” 

“I suppose he’d say that we should do all of that with magic,” she said. It was obvious, really. She didn’t think it was an intelligent point of view, but it wasn’t _entirely_ nonsensical. Relnas might be a loon, but he wasn’t stupid. But he wouldn’t have said that, either. He would have asked how many nobles could cobble their own shoes or farm their own lands. Not many, but a lot of them got _their_ own countries. 

“Seems like a great waste of magic,” Elisabet said. “I doubt that’s what the Chant meant when it said magic should serve man.” 

“You didn’t mention the Libertarians,” Max said. He’d cleared his plate and was lounging against his chair, watching the table at large. Uncle Thomas gave a brief chuckle from his place at the end of the table. 

“Oh, yes,” Evie said. “Well, they’re a bit radical. I wasn’t sure if... I didn’t think it was polite to bring up.” 

She shoveled a large forkful of greens into her mouth before anyone could ask her anything more. Just as she’d done it, though, the servants were back. One of them whisked her plate away without a word and placed another where it had been. 

She was instantly relieved. She hadn’t known they’d be getting more food. 

Evie scanned the contents of the plate and was relieved it didn’t hold anything particularly revolting. There was a small cut of steak, alongside a few roasted vegetables. All of it looked much finer than the fare they served at the Circle, but it was still familiar enough. 

“What do they believe?” Reginald asked, but the question was posed to Max. Evie stiffened, the food in her mouth gone ashy. 

“They _are_ radical,” Max conceded. “And quite delusional. They want complete self-governance, with no Templar oversight.” 

“Absolute drivel,” Uncle Thomas snapped. He started sawing at the meat on his plate, shaking his head. “They’d be like sheep to the slaughter.” 

“Yes, quite upsetting,” Mother said. She took another long pull from her wine glass before shooting Edwin a pleading look. 

“The current Grand Enchanter is a professed Libertarian,” Max said. He looked rather pleased with himself, sending a look in Uncle Thomas’s direction. It was like he was hoping for a reaction. What he got was a grunt and another shake of the head. Something about the way he held himself, then, reminded Evie of someone. She wasn’t sure who it was, but the feeling sent a thrill of anxiety through her. 

“That can’t be!” Elisabet said. She raised a hand to clutch at her heart. 

Evie wanted to throttle her. She hadn’t even _known_ what a Libertarian was two seconds ago, and now she was worried about the Grand Enchanter being one. Although, Evie hadn’t known that either. Donovan had never mentioned it. Part of her was thrilled at the discovery, and she was resolved to pester her friend about it as soon as she got home. Mostly, though, she wanted this dinner to end as soon as possible. 

“There were plenty of those upstarts at Starkhaven, years back,” Uncle Thomas grumbled between bites of food. “Don’t worry your head about it Bet. We put down any rebellious tendencies. The Lord Seeker and the Knight-Vigilant won’t stand for Fiona’s meddling.” 

Evie tensed, and then cringed, because Max seemed to have noticed. 

“They transferred several mages to Ostwick, right Uncle?” he asked. “You didn’t have to deal with any rebellious types, did you, Evelyn?” 

“No.” 

This was worse than anything she could have imagined. She’d pointedly avoided thoughts of what seeing her family again would be like, at any point between Uncle Thomas’s appearance and their arrival—probably even before then—but even she couldn’t have prepared for this. These were a bunch of empty-headed idiots, and for some reason, Max was this new, cruel creature. 

He’d been her favorite before. Her baby brother, who she’d delighted in chasing across the lawn outside the manor. The little boy who’d sat patiently for her when she’d gotten into Elisabet’s cosmetics, so she could try them out on his round little face. He was the one she’d always missed, the only one who’d never sent a single letter, and who Evie had hoped wouldn’t hate her. 

She wanted, very strongly, to go home. Home to the Circle, where she could curl up on her bunk with Ellaria. Then she’d tell her friend about all the terrible things had happened, and Ellaria would explain why it wasn’t really that bad. 

Then she’d go to Karri or Donovan, and they’d teach her a bunch of new names for her family. Mean ones that would make her laugh until her stomach hurt. 

Back at the Circle, Evie wasn’t afraid of talking back to the Templars, because she knew exactly what she’d get from them—harsh words or harsher fists. But she was outside of the Circle. If she mouthed off now... She hardly even knew these people; they _wouldn’t_ protect her. Not the way her friends would. Hell, they wouldn’t protect her as much as Harrold had. The First Enchanter might be a collaborator, but she knew he’d kept her from the worst punishments in the past. 

“Maxwell,” Edwin sighed. He was rubbing his face with his hands. “ _Why_ are you instigating?” 

“Edwin,” Mother said, voice suddenly sharp. “Let’s not do this at the table.” 

“Mother, he’s being needlessly cruel,” Edwin said. “I mean, this whole conversation had been awful. Evelyn, you don’t have to answer every question we ask.” 

Evie took another sip of her wine. She didn’t bother hoping that this would put an end to any of this. Edwin might be putting on a show for her, but it was probably a trick. This was all most likely some elaborate Templar trap for her. One of the Knight-Captains must have heard one of her more particularly seditious comments. Or maybe they suspected her of blood magic for some reason. 

Yes, that was it! Tylger had devised this whole thing in order to catch her doing something foolish, so he could finally punish her as strictly as he wanted to. And if her family was in on it, no happy accident of birth would help her. 

“Oh yes, Ed. Please be our voice of restraint,” Elisabet snapped. “It’s your greatest virtue.” 

“Don’t start on me, Bet. I wasn’t even talking to you.” 

“I’m taking this into the kitchen,” Uncle Thomas said. He stood, plate in hand, and made a quick exit. Evie stared after him, wishing she was brave enough to join him. She’d take more of the grunts and glares, please. 

“Please don’t fight,” Mother said. “Evelyn hasn’t even been home for a day.” 

“Evelyn isn’t _home_ ,” Max said. “Evelyn lives at the Circle.” 

Edwin let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, genius, we know that.” 

“Don’t tease him!” Elisabet snapped. “You’re _always_ belittling him.” 

Father let out a sharp snort. “I’m going to join my brother in the kitchen.” 

“Edwin Ephram Trevelyan, don’t you _dare_!” Mother snapped. 

“They’ll be at this all night, Helena,” Father replied easily. He took his plate and followed Uncle Thomas’s path out of the room. 

“Oh, now you’ve gone and bothered papa,” Elisabet said. 

“Bothered him? He’s been waiting all dinner to leave,” Edwin countered. “There’s only so much of us anyone can take.” 

“I didn’t do anything wrong! I’ve been perfectly civil.” 

“’An elf?’” Edwin reminded her. 

“What do you even talk about with a _mage?_ ” Elisabet asked. She threw her hands up and leaned back heavily into her chair. Reginald looked incredibly uncomfortable, but he made no move to flee to the kitchen. Mother had drained her glass and was pouring herself another one, shooing the servant away when they stepped forward to help. 

“Mother, slow down,” Max said, voice gone gentle for a moment. 

“You’re the reason she’s drinking, Max,” Edwin said. “This whole thing was _your_ idea in the first place.” 

“Edwin!” Mother’s voice was practically frantic now. She was staring at Evie with big eyes. 

Evie took a slow bite of a carrot. She was watching this all unfold like it was a particularly engaging play. She hadn’t expected to be involved because they all seemed to be talking about things she wasn’t involved in— _literally,_ they were discussing the dinner, but the references to past arguments were clear and the tension hadn’t all been built up over a simple conversation. 

“Oh please, Mother. It’s too late at this point. Cat’s out of the bag.” 

“How in the _world_ is this Max’s fault? Evelyn is being difficult on purpose,” Elisabet asked. She shot Evie a nasty glare. 

Evie finished the carrot and moved on to a cube of potato. It was a little over seasoned. 

Maybe if she just finished her meal, she could be off before this turned violent. Maybe they’d all kill each other, and she could slip into the city unnoticed. 

“Evelyn’s been away a very long time,” Mother said. Another gulp of wine. “I doubt all of her fellow apprentices are good company. She’ll need time to adjust.” 

Evelyn cut a small piece of meat off and tried to savor it. The gravy was cooling fast though, and it had begun to congeal unpleasantly. There was never any gravy at the Circle. They mostly ate soup. 

“Evelyn’s been locked up with a bunch of deranged witches for her entire life,” Edwin growled. “She shouldn’t even be here.” Ah, there it was. He’d seemed so _nice,_ too. 

Evie wondered if there’d been a desert planned. That was probably off the table now. 

“What happened to _Max_ being needlessly antagonistic? Why do you care?” Max asked. He wasn’t yelling like the rest of them. His voice was steady and calm. 

“Max,” Elisabet snapped. “He’s not exactly wrong. Dreadful manners or not, she wouldn’t even be here if _you_ didn’t ask Auntie Francine to intercede.” 

“Is that why I’m here?” Evie asked. She didn’t even realize she’d said it until they all turned to stare at her. 

“Shut up, Evelyn!” Edwin snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.” 

She let out a shrill laugh just as Max chuckled. If he wasn’t awful, she might have appreciated that she wasn’t the only one who recognized what a ridiculous statement that was. 

“Oh, just look at the pair of you,” Edwin said. “I hope you’re both happy with yourselves.” 

“I really should just leave, shouldn’t I?” Reginald asked. Evie laughed again. She’d forgotten he was still here. 

“Reg, _don’t_ ,” Elisabet ordered. He stayed sitting, but he seemed to be sinking further and further into his chair as the seconds ticked by. “Why did you want her here?” she asked, turning on Max. 

It seemed that with every second the alliances shifted. It was hard to keep pace with it. 

“I really wish you would all settle down,” Mother said. She sounded on the verge of tears. “This was supposed to be a special night. And we should be celebrating. Maxwell is going to take his vows in just two days.” 

“Yes, yes. And we’re all so proud of good Ser Maxwell,” Edwin said. “Evelyn, aren’t you _so_ very proud?” 

“Edwin,” Mother sobbed. She was clutching at her wine glass like a life-line. 

“Evelyn, please tell Max how proud of him you are!” Edwin exclaimed. He’d gone quite red in the face, and each word was punctuated by a bit of spittle flinging itself from between his lips. “I assume that was the goal of this whole thing? You need the matching set of hero-worshippers for the big day or it doesn’t count?” 

Max was still lounging in his chair. He shrugged noncommittally. “It _is_ my special day.” 

“And I suppose you’ll be there for her stupid Harrowing, or whatever it is? What do you get a witch who has everything? A virgin sacrifice?” Elisabet had given up any pretense of defending Max. She was leaning across the table, like she wanted throw herself bodily at him. 

“She’s not a witch!” Mother cried. “She’s a _mage_. She—she's practically a scholar. And she won’t have to stay at the Circle forever. She’s going to go to court and work for a good family! Lady Grissaud’s grandson had an appointment in Orlais, with a Baronet!” 

“That’s absurd!” Elisabet said. “Mother, don’t delude yourself.” 

“It’s true! He’s a proper member at court. Your father is going to make sure Evelyn has the same opportunity. He’s already spoken to Auntie Francine.” 

“I don’t want to go to Orlais,” Evie said. Had that been in Mother’s letter as well? Evie should really have read them. 

“You’re _not_ going to Orlais,” Max said. It was the first thing he said without a smile. “Mages belong in Circles, mother. Imagine what might happen to her if she was at court.” 

“Then why’d you bring her _here_?” Edwin roared. He stood abruptly, shoving the table away with a jerk and storming out of the room. 

Evie thought that might end things, but Max started in again. 

“Mother, she could be possessed, or attacked by an angry mob. She’s safer in the Circle. I want to be _very_ clear about that.” 

Elisabet let out a disgusted little sound in her throat. “Answer the question, brother.” 

“She’s still my sister,” Max said. “Why wouldn’t I want her to see me take my vows?” 

“Because she’s a wi—” 

“She’s not a witch. My baby is _not_ a witch.” Mother whined. She was crying openly now. “This whole night has been absolutely _ruined_.” 

“You’re impossible!” Elisabet said. She was pouting in full force now. “How can she possibly still be your favorite?” 

With another disgusted noise, her older sister rose. She pulled Reginald up after her and forced him out of the room. 

“Well, that was nice,” Evie quipped. This had been _much_ more entertaining than a drawn-out Templar test. 

“I have to go find your father,” Mother sobbed. She rushed out of the room, wine glass still in hand. 

There was blessed silence for a few moments. Evie finished the rest of her plate, willfully ignoring the sounds of scraping from Max as he did the same. 

Once the plates were clear, the servants rushed forward and cleared the entire table. Evie gave a polite thank you to all of them, but their faces were immobile, and they gave no indication that they’d heard. 

“You’re quite happy, aren’t you?” Max asked. 

Evie was uncomfortable being alone with him, but she feared what he might do if she tried to leave. Uncle Thomas had been tasked with watching her, and he was gone. If Max got it into his head that she might try to escape, this could turn sour. 

“Dinner was tasty,” she offered. “I wish we’d gotten desert, though,” she added with a frown. 

“I can have the servants bring it out if you want,” he offered. He took another sip of his wine. 

“I think I’ll just go to bed, actually,” she said. “I’m suddenly very tired.” 

He laughed. “They’ll all be better tomorrow, you know. They do this about once a month. Last time it was because Edwin brought a prostitute to one of Mother’s parties.” 

“Oh, that one sounds much more fun.” 

“My point is,” he said, sitting up in his chair to look her full in the face, “they’ll all pretend none of it happened tomorrow. Except Uncle Thomas, maybe. But he’s not a talker.” 

“Why’d you do it, then?” she found herself asking. It had been all his fault, after all. 

Max seemed to be surprised by her question. He nursed his wine for a moment, seemingly thinking over his response. “I always start them, for one,” he finally answered. He studied her face for a reaction. 

She realized that he did that a lot. He seemed very carefree, but his eyes were constantly moving, scanning the faces of those around him. It seemed that he was aware of all their weakest points. She would have shuddered if she wasn’t so nervous about what he’d see in her face. Her brother played their family like a fiddle, but perhaps he wouldn’t be able to read her as well, because she’d been gone for so long. 

“And?” she pressed. 

He shrugged. “I suppose I wanted to see what you’d do. As an added bonus, though, now you’ll never have to worry about missing the loving embrace of a perfect family.” 

“Thank you very much,” she said, automatically. You always thanked a Templar for their service, after all. 

He hummed, before nodding. “I’ll take you to your room,” he said. It might have sounded like a kind gesture in any other situation, but she knew what it really was. 

It occurred to her, all at once, who she was reminded of when she looked at him. It was Ser Hoss. 

*** 

Max had been completely correct when he assured her they’d all act as if nothing had happened the next day. 

Or, he was almost completely correct. Edwin and Elisabet were back to bland pleasantness when they spoke to each other, and Mother showed no sign of her emotional breakdown. The lot of them seemed to have forgiven Max overnight. 

But they were all being cold with her. 

Elisabet had taken one look at her, seated at the breakfast table, shoveling food into her mouth, and had turned out of the room with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. Reginald seemed to follow her around like a puppy. 

Edwin was eyeing her like she was a rabid animal, and she might bite him at any moment. Mother and Father spoke to her like she was a distant and not-well-liked relation. 

Uncle Thomas seemed mostly the same. He didn’t seem to be holding the evening against her at all, or alternatively he’d already had a very bad opinion of her. 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, the next day brought even more family to their doorstep. Auntie Francine, who was actually Revered Mother Leanna of the Ostwick Chantry, had shown up with a small retinue. She’d taken one look at Evie and seemed to catch a sudden whiff of something repellent, because even as she bowed her head and prattled on about the Maker’s children and the great sacrifice of good Andrastian mages, her face had been twisted into a very funny grimace. Evie waited until the old woman had turned away to laugh. 

The Revered Auntie greeted Edwin and Elisabet much more warmly, but she reserved any true affection for Max, who she wrapped into an incredibly genuine-looking hug. She thanked him for his service and promised that she was thrilled to be attending his upcoming vow ceremony. He took it all in with a rather distant and bemused grin. 

Next were a few cousins Evie didn’t remember, all of whom seemed deeply terrified of her. A pair of twin girls clustered around Elisabet and fawned over her. They couldn’t have been older than 14, but they seemed to take themselves very seriously. 

Once the house had begun to fill up, Evie felt the sudden desire to flee. She was getting herself worked up to ask Uncle Thomas if he’d take her back into the kitchen, hovering near the entry way and searching for the tell-tale shine of his armor, when another dreaded relation showed up. 

It was Uncle Roger. 

The man was taller than anyone she’d ever seen before, and his full set of ceremonial plate made him look as big as a qunari—not that Evie had ever seen a qunari, but she guessed that if she had, that’s what he would have looked like. He had a nasty scar that slashed across his face, and a bushy black beard. Evie didn’t think Templars were supposed to have beards, but even if they weren’t, she thought it looked rather fearsome. She didn’t remember him being so tall. 

He took one look at the mass of relative and seemed to wilt, though. Evie laughed a little, and one of her terrified cousins sent her a startled look. 

“Where’s the boy?” he asked the room at large. The buzz of conversation kept on, but everyone seemed to have turned themselves slightly. The room looked a little like a galaxy, with all the people orbiting around this beast of a man. 

Max let out a loud, joyful laugh and extracted himself from a conversation with one of their Mother’s aunts. He strode over to Uncle Roger and let himself be drawn into a tight hug, seemingly ignorant of the armor. Brave move. 

“Uncle Roger! How’s Kirkwall treating you?” Edwin asked. He'd sidled up to them as they began extracting themselves from the hug. Roger sent Edwin a careless look. 

“Bloody awful, boy,” he answered, but he turned back to Max. Edwin slunk away again, looking irritable. 

“Are you ready?” Roger asked Max. “Really ready?” 

“Of course, Rog. You’d _think_ I’ve bloody prepared enough.” 

“Ah, none of the training really prepares you. It’s hands-on stuff that you really need.” 

“Well, I have plenty of that,” Max laughed. 

Evie worried about what that meant. Visions of Max, sword raised and wet with mageblood, flashed through her head. Why was she picturing the mage crumpled at his feet as Ellaria? 

But she must have made a sound, because Roger and Max both looked back towards her. 

“Oh, you’re not fleeing already, are you Ev?” Max joked. 

It sent ice through her veins. What was he implying with _that_ , exactly? And who told him he could call her Ev? She was Evelyn here. Nicknames were for the Circle, for her friends. Evie tried to keep a neutral expression as she turned to the two large Templars who were looming in front of the only real exit from all this madness that was her family. 

“I was going to ask Uncle Thomas is we could wait in the kitchen until everyone leaves,” she admitted, because she figured the truth was less damning than anything he could think up. 

Roger laughed. “They got _Thom_ to do it? What did they have to offer him to leave his post at Starkhaven?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly,” Max said. “But he’s miserable about the whole situation.” 

“He would be,” Roger said. When he smiled the scar on his face stretched across his cheek and turned from a mottled red to shiny white. It turned Evie’s stomach. 

Evie glanced down, but there was no Orlesian rug for her to ruin, so she fought down the gorge. Mother probably wouldn’t have made a face as funny as Harrold anyway. 

“How are you, girl?” Roger asked. 

Evie frowned. What in the world would he ask that for? She thought about telling him the truth, because she didn’t know if she could lie in front of Max without him knowing. Paranoia had started to nip at her heels, and she’d already half convinced herself that he could read her mind. 

“Terrible,” she said simply. “Would Uncle Thom be mad about going to the kitchen? Would it be alright if one of the servants watched me instead?” 

Roger laughed again, a big belly laugh. “You sure Ed and Bet are the twins?” he asked, tossing a look to Max. 

“What’s funny?” she asked. “That wasn’t a joke.” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Max assured her, which set her teeth on edge. She didn’t want him _manipulating_ her by being nice. 

“You’d know if I told a joke,” Evie said. “I’m very funny.” 

What was it about her that made her so hellbent on convincing Templars that she was funny? Hadn’t she explained to her friends dozens of times that they were too stupid to get real comedy? 

“Are you?” Roger asked. His smile seemed kind, which made her even more anxious. Everything about the smile seemed correct. He wasn’t even squinting his eyes so much she couldn’t see them. Ser Warren did that sometimes, and it made it hard to know when he was smiling even though he was angry. 

“She’s very clever,” Max said. 

“So, can I go to the kitchen?” She was getting nervous, and impatient, and it made her less careful with her words. 

“Don’t bother Thom with that,” Roger said, sending a careless wave in the direction of the rest of the family. “Come on Max, let’s show your sister the kitchen.” 

Evie shook her head immediately. “No, that’s fine. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and take a nap instead.” 

The twin looks the men sent her were equally puzzled. 

Oh. Max wasn’t like Ser Hoss at all, he was like _Uncle Roger_. 

“Come off it, girl. No need to be polite. I hate these sorts of things anyway.” He sent a grin towards Father, who was looking over at them all with an unpleasant frown. “Apologies, Max.” 

“No skin off my teeth, Rog. I asked mother to wait until after the ceremony anyway. Now we’re just having two parties instead of one.” 

Roger chuckled again. With a shake of his head, he skirted the edge of the party. Numerous pairs of eyes tracked his movements, but no one seemed willing to call him back. Max followed close behind, and when Evie stayed rooted to her spot in the foyer, he rolled his eyes and gestured for her to follow. 

The servants didn’t seem to notice them come in—they definitely did, but they were very good at pretending—and the elves simply parted to allow their small party to pass them. There was a small nook at the back of the kitchen, which faced a window into the back garden. 

Evie hesitated before she sat. The _last_ time she’d sat down with Max, everyone had started yelling. Roger took the seat in the corner, as if he always needed the wall to his back. Max sat just beside him. Evie pulled the final chair as far away from the table as she reasonably could and sat opposite them. 

“You’re an odd one,” Max laughed. 

“They get like that, when they’ve been in the Circle, long enough,” Roger said offhandedly. “Real shy.” 

Evie wanted to prove him wrong about that. Not only was she _not_ shy, but she had the bruises to prove it. The pale skin of her arms was littered with dozens of bruises, new and old impressions upon impressions of gauntleted fingers digging into her arms as they dragged her off to solitary for a joke or a wisecrack, and a few scars from falls and the like. She slid her sleeves up her arms defiantly. 

She still had the small scar from when Ser Hoss backhanded her, where it bisected her lip, and she hoped they knew what that was from too. 

If she was braver, or foolhardier, she’d show them the mottled scar on her belly from the sharp toe of Rollens boot. Evie couldn’t keep track of how many times he’d let another Templar knock her to the ground before getting in a few good licks of his own. 

_My body is a monument to little cruelties,_ she wanted to tell them, _but I’m not your timid pet_. If she were a poet, she would have written that down. 

What was this strange madness that seemed to be overtaking her? 

Roger took the sight in with a cursory glance. “Ah, so I’ve been proven wrong!” 

“Evie,” Max clucked. He reached out, as if to take a closer look, but she snatched her arms back. Overcome with her own stupidity, she tugged her sleeves back down. 

“Call me Evelyn please,” she said. “No one calls me Evie.” 

Max frowned slightly. “I always called you Evie when we were children.” 

“Evelyn, please,” she repeated. She didn’t think he’d listen either way, but she didn’t want to be in this kitchen with them, so she needed to exert just a little bit of control. He wasn’t allowed to pretend he wasn’t as responsible for her bruises as any of the bucket heads at Ostwick. He was complicit, a predator who preyed on people like her. Any of the men locked in the Circle with her was more brother than him. 

“Tygel still Knight-Commander at Ostwick?” Roger asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

She shot him a glance. “Yes. Or he was when I left yesterday.” Evie let herself have a laugh at the thought of Tygel busting into flames or falling from the ramparts. “But anything can happen in a day.” 

“Somebody sounds hopeful,” Max said. His frown was gone. 

“Tygel’s an impatient ass,” Roger observed mildly. 

Ah ah ah, no way was she falling for that. Evie sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Knight-Commander Tygel’s very kind.” 

Max laughed. “Oh, you know how to compliment a Templar _now_?” 

“What?” Roger asked, offering his nephew a questioning smile. 

“Bet wanted to know about Reggie’s fool brother. She asked Ev about him. What did you say about Rollens, Ev?” 

Ev was better than Evie, but she still took a moment to grit her teeth at the casual way he threw it out. Like they were real siblings. 

“I said he had good ears. ‘He can hear a joke at his expense clear across the hall.’ And I said his armor was very shiny.” 

Roger turned to Max, as if to confirm, before he laughed. “Of course you did,” he said. “You two are one in the same.” 

“Am I that sarcastic?” Max asked, sounding offended. 

“Worse,” their uncle assured him. “I assume you made the joke at his expense?” he asked, turning to Evie. 

She shrugged. “I make lots of jokes.” 

“Those are the worst ones,” Roger told her brother. “The really funny ones. Takes all you have not to laugh when they make some sly comment about another knight. There’s a robe in the Gallows who’s given us all nicknames. Insolent little shit.” 

Max grinned. “ _Please_ tell me what he calls the Knight-Captain.” 

Roger smiled. “He heard a civilian call him Curly once and decided it was a solid choice. Drives Rutherford to distraction.” 

“Do you have nicknames for yours?” Max asked her. 

Evie shook her head. 

She did, of course, but they weren’t very funny. Hoss was Darkspawn Shit most of the time, because she liked her nicknames clear and simple, and Donovan called Tygel some very creative Antivan curses when he was in a particularly bad mood. Some of the apprentices referred to Ser Sinnead as mamae, but that was only because there were rumors that she’d had an affair with one of the elven mages. Evie didn’t like that one because it was meaner to the mage than the bucket head. That was in addition to what frightened and angry young mages called Templars as a group; bucket heads, flaming pricks, Andraste’s chosen arseholes, the list was long and colorful. 

“None at all?” Max pressed. “Come on, Ev. I haven’t taken my vows yet, I can’t get you in trouble.” 

Evie doubted that very much, but he wasn’t going to drop it. She could tell, because his smile wasn’t just amused anymore, there was more of that Templar cruelty. “The apprentices call one of the Templars Ser Mouse because his voice breaks.” 

“That’s a mild one,” Roger said. “I say, let the kids have their fun. It's not them you need to worry about.” 

“Disrespecting the Templars is foolish,” Evie recited. “They’re only here to protect us from ourselves.” 

Max snorted. 

Evie shrunk further into her chair. This was all very confusing. They weren’t acting like Templars were _supposed_ to act. They weren’t getting mad or issuing commands. And they weren’t laughing wrong like Ser Hoss did. Max’s laugh was just like Finnegan’s laugh, all open and clean. Roger’s laugh was more like Donovan’s. If she had to be here, the least they could do was be like normal Templars. All this joking made her head hurt, and she just wanted to go lay down. 

At least Uncle Thomas was being _normal_. 

“Poor little Evelyn,” Roger sighed. He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “I remember you as a wild little lass. Always getting into things.” 

“I was right there with her,” Max admitted, shaking his head fondly. 

She felt like she was at her own funeral. 

“I recall an incident from when the pair of you barely reached my knees,” Roger said. “Your da was throwing some asinine ball or hosting up jumped merchants or some such. I was only there because I hadn’t taken my vows yet. We were all in the parlor, waiting for those little sandwiches Helena always serves, and the two of you walked in covered eyebrow to arse in red. 

“Your mother screamed so loud I was deaf for a week, and she tried to get Ed to call for a healer. He wouldn’t, and she was arguing with him so fiercely she didn’t even know you two were laughing. You hadn’t gone and gotten yourselves mauled by a bear, of course. You were just being children” he sighed, shaking his head at the memory. 

Evie finished it for him. “We got into Elisabet’s calligraphy set. There _was_ some blood though, actually. I cut myself on one of the pens. It was why we came downstairs.” 

“I barely remember that.” Max looked at her with a curiously thoughtful expression. “How old were we?” 

“I was seven, so you were six. Elisabet locked herself in her room for a week because no one yelled at us for the wasted ink.” 

“Do you remember any more?” he asked. He’d abandoned his usually lax posture to lean forward towards her across the table, arms crossed over each other on the worn old wood. “Mother never talks about what we got into. I think she hopes we’ll forget all thoughts of mischief. All she ever talks about is your letters.” 

“I’m sure you could ask someone else,” Evie said. 

This was not going to be a heart-wrenching moment of reunion. She wouldn’t allow it. If he wanted that, he shouldn’t be a Templar. Blight it, but even if he _wasn’t,_ even if he was Edwin or Bet, she wouldn’t allow it. This was all still a test for her, a dangling of everything she might have ever wanted. If she got attached to any of this—although who could get attached to this family?—everything she’d ever fought for at the Circle was gone. Friends, comfort, joy, all of it would pale in comparison to what she’d seen outside of the thick stone walls. That’s how it worked. That’s why mages only did well if they were brought in while they were still young. They didn’t know what they were missing. 

“I already told you why I couldn’t,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed. 

She shrugged. “I was a child as well. I don’t remember a lot.” 

“Well do you have any amusing tales from the Circle?” he asked. “I can’t imagine what magelings get up to.” 

She raised a brow at him. “Do you _want_ to?” 

“I imagine we do,” Roger said. He was watching them both like a hawk. “You lot are always up to funny shite. You’re an odd bunch.” 

Evie imagined, just for a moment, telling them about the first time one of the older girls in the dormitory explained how baths worked. How the girl had promised she’d stand in front of the youngest ones and make sure the Templars couldn’t see. Now she and Ellaria did that, because that girl had been killed during her Harrowing. 

Or maybe she’d tell them about how Ser Quentyn, after he found out about her impression, tried to corner her in the library alone—the only thing that had saved her was Enchanter Uriah coming in to fetch a book, and the quick thinking that had made him call out for her to return to a class she wasn’t even part of. 

Or maybe she’d tell them about the three days she’s sat starving and shivering in solitary because she’d called Ser Warren an ‘irredeemable stain upon the earth’. 

“I write to mother about those sorts of things,” Evie said instead. 

“No you don’t!” Max practically whined. “Your letters to mother are always the same. It’s like you’re sending a form letter. ‘Everything is wonderful, mama, and my studies are going well.’ That’s all.” 

“Sometimes I’m too busy to read her replies,” Evie said. “I don’t want her to worry.” 

She chose to ignore the fact that he was reading all her letters. 

Max hummed unhappily. “If you _had_ read what she's sending, you’d know she’s been trying to get you a position at court for years. You seemed as surprised as Elisabet last night.” 

“Is the woman mad?” Roger barked. Evie saw a few of the servants jump a little at his volume. She sent an apologetic smile in their general direction, but their eyes were all trained pointedly away from the table. 

“One of her friends has a grandson, a mage. Apparently, he’s involved with a count or something,” Max said. “I’ve told her numerous times that it’s a bad idea.” 

“I don’t want to go to court,” Evie said firmly. She didn’t want them to think she was getting her hopes up. “All of the mages at court are annoying. The court is annoying.” 

“How do you know that?” Roger asked. He still looked angry about the very suggestion. 

She scrambled for a moment. She knew that because anyone who managed a position at court was good at appeasing the Templars and using their family name. They were Loyalists or they were quiet. And she knew that because Donovan had told her about knowing a court mage once, a woman who sacrificed everything, including her fellow mages, to get there. But you didn’t say that to Templars, even if they were your strange and unknowable relatives. 

“Who _wants_ to go to court? I... I like the Circle.” The words were hard to get through, but she did it anyway. 

“I’ll speak to your parents,” Roger said, “Dissuade them from this madness.” 

He addressed it to Max, though, as if his was the only opinion that mattered. It was, she supposed. 

“You shouldn’t encourage her, Evie,” Max told her. “Read the letters before you answer them.” 

“No one reads mine,” she grumbled mutinously. 

“Of course we do!” Max said. “Mother reads them aloud. Elisabet always hates it. And when you still explained your lessons, it used to make Edwin go pale as a ghost. You tried to tell us about summoning lightning once and I thought he was going to faint.” 

She remembered that letter. It had been after one of her first real lessons with primal magic. She’d been so excited to show she knew the theory that she’d written it all down in one go. Mother hadn’t even commented on it, just asked the same questions she always did. It was one of the last handful of letters she ever put any effort into. 

“When I asked Mother to stop sending cosmetics she didn’t,” Evie said. That had started when she turned thirteen, and besides being baffling—what use did she have for _rouge_ in the Circle—it had made some of the older girls upset. She’d given most of it away, or if she didn’t know what it did, she tossed it. “I _still_ get pots of color every year for my birthday.” 

“That’s Elisabet,” Max said. “If she doesn’t like something, she gives it to mother to send to you.” 

Evie ignored the flare of irritation those words ignited inside her. “Well I don’t use it. I’m not stupid.” 

“No one called you stupid, girl,” Roger said. 

“Wearing paints _is_ stupid. You don’t rub the chickens in gravy if you don’t want the foxes to feast.” 

Roger let out a little snort at that, leveling her with another one of his stupid searching looks. It seemed like he was reassessing his initial impression of her. She didn’t know why her words would do that, but then she heard Max let out a deep sound of distress. 

“What are you implying?” he asked. He didn’t look very amused. 

“Nothing,” she said, quickly. “I was just making a joke.” 

“No, you weren’t,” Max snapped. “What did you mean?” 

Evie shifted uncomfortably. She’d been pulling herself further and further into her chair, perhaps in an effort to make herself a smaller target, but with twin pairs of blue eyes trained on her, she didn’t have anywhere to hide. She found herself glancing over at the servants—for support or acknowledgment she didn’t know—but the servants had all subtly turned away from the table. She faced a dozen backs. There was no use in being angry about that, either. There wasn’t much they could do. These people didn’t even know her. She was a strange woman who perhaps shared a resemblance with their employers, and a mage to boot, but Max was a son of this house. 

She knew she wouldn’t be able to say anything to explain herself. The very idea was laughable. A mage’s words meant nothing to a Templar. And if they didn’t like her answer, would she fail this test? Could Max read everything on her face even now? Was it all over anyway? If she misspoke, maybe they’d call this farce off and just kill her already. Perhaps this was what a Harrowing really was, just longer and more drawn out. She couldn’t live with this uncertainty. 

Evie wanted to go back to the Circle. She wanted Ellaria to hold her. She wanted Finnegan to tell her a joke. 

“What do you want me to say, _Ser_?” she asked, desperately. He wasn’t Ser Maxwell yet, that would come with the vows, but it hardly mattered. The Templars back at Ostwick didn’t like when you werr so blunt about these sorts of things—they liked it better if you could tell exactly what they wanted and just recite it—but deference was always better than outright refusal to perform. 

She missed the Evie who would have spit in a Templars face. She’d been around just a day ago, when she’d sassed Tylger to his face. But these two weren’t just some stupid bucket heads. She didn’t know what it was about Roger and Max that was different exactly, but she supposed it had something to do with Roger’s post at Kirkwall. Everyone knew that Circle was different than others. Maybe it made their Templars sharper and harder to fool. And it was clear that their Uncle had taken a personal hand in training Max. 

Max sat back in his chair, and she didn’t know what his face was doing now. Roger placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“Chin up, boy. I told you this would be hard,” Roger assured him. Max seemed to lean into the touch, emotions sliding off his back. 

Was it over? Had she failed spectacularly? Why weren’t they getting their swords out to cut her down? 

“I know,” Max sighed. “Still, it’s different than I thought it would be. I know this was my idea, but I never thought Auntie Fran would agree in the first place.” 

“Fran’d do quite a bit for you, lad. Remember that, once you take your vows.” 

Max fell silent, repositioning himself in his chair. He seemed to draw Roger’s words inside himself, shoulders straightening, face morphing into detached disinterest. Evie shivered. Maybe he was getting himself ready, now. In just a moment, he’d stand from the table and draw his blade. He’d cut her down without a thought, and then he and Roger would discuss him form. Would she be his first felled mage? 

She hoped so. She hoped he’d lay awake at night and picture his sister’s face, and it would drive him mad. Evie stood, before he could. Her hands gripped at the back of the chair hard, short nails digging into the hardwood. 

“I want to go back to the Circle,” she said. “When can I go back?” 

The words served a dual purpose in her mind. The first was a simple gauge of the situation she was in. Depending on Max’s reply, she’d be able to tell what her chances were. The second, she was less proud of. It was a final plea, a promise that she could be good. Maybe she’d said that stupid thing about birds and foxes, but here she was, practically _begging_ to be taken back to her cage. 

“We’ve frightened her,” Max said. He wasn’t even looking at her, beyond a short glance when she spoke. He was staring across the table at Roger in search of counsel. 

Roger laughed, a great big booming one that seemed intentionally louder than his others, and Evie couldn’t help but jump. “Get used to it, lad.” He clapped Max on the back. 

“I confirmed the details with Uncle Thomas after dinner last night,” Max told her, turning back a smile at her. It was a smile you gave small children and the extremely addled “We’ll be able to return you the day after my ceremony. This was all in Mother’s letter.” 

That last bit seemed tacked on unnecessarily. Evie was more concerned with the news that she still had to go see him takes the vows. Wasn’t the test over? If she’d passed—which she might have, because she wasn’t dead yet—why wasn’t Uncle Thomas just taking her back now? 

“Didn’t I—haven't I done well?” she asked and hated how weak she was to even ask. “I can go back to the Circle now.” 

And irritated look passed from Max to Roger, like she was a particularly dim-witted and obstinate dog they were trying to train. “What are you talking about? I don’t think anyone besides Elisabet could complain about your behavior.” 

Evie shook her head, unable to answer without revealing that she knew what they were doing. Or sounding stupid. Maybe both. 

“You don’t want to go to the Chantry?” Roger guessed. 

She shook her head immediately, trying to squash the line of questioning. “I don’t care about going to the Chantry. I just thought... Well, I don’t know.” 

Roger squinted at her, trying to parse just what she was going on about, perhaps. Evie shifted on her feet impatiently. 

A look of understanding seemed to pass over Max’s face, before Roger could prod her further, however. He shook his head with a rueful smile. “You’re here for my ceremony, Ev. Nothing more. I figured, if every one of our fool cousins got to attend, you should be here too. Plus, I thought it would scare the piss out of Ed and Bet.” 

So, it was all for a joke then? Evie couldn’t help the scowl now doubt burning across her face. The realization that her paranoia hadn’t been full justified also rankled. Paranoia was a helpful ally for any Circle mage, and she’d never abandon it fully, but this entire day had her feeling both drained and foolish. 

“I’m going to take a nap,” she said. And without another word, Evie did the bravest thing she could at that moment; she turned her back on a Templar. 

*** 

If the ceremony in the Chantry had been awful, and the party afterward had been maddening, waking up the morning she was going back to the Circle was unbearable. 

Not only did she drink too much wine the night before, but Reg had gotten almost more drunk than her, and asked—in front of a dozen other people, no less—if Evie could show him some magic. Her response had been a violent negative, and for some reason Elisabet had taken great offense. No matter that Evie knew her sister would rather die than see her do magic. No, because Evie was being cruel and unreasonable to her precious Reggie. 

Uncle Thomas had to take her upstairs after that, and she’d fallen asleep with a tickle in her throat and an ache in her head. 

Mother, Max, and Uncle Thom were the only ones present when she came downstairs with her bag slung over her shoulder and her cloak half fastened. She hadn’t bothered to do anything but bundle her hair into a bun at the back of her head, and Mother kept reaching out to try to fix escaping strands. 

“It’s fine, Mother!” Evie finally snapped, yanking away from her. “It’ll just get mussed on the road anyway.” 

Mother’s fond smile tucked itself away, replaced with a look of pain. “Sorry, dear. I just wish you’d do something with your hair. It’s always been so pretty.” 

“Thank you,” she replied tersely. 

“Oh, my baby,” Mother said. Her lip trembled a bit, as if she might start crying. “You’ve gotten so _big_.” 

After Evie had seen her cry half a dozen times over about three days, she’d stopped being surprised by the sight, so she said nothing to stop it. 

“Mother,” Max sighed impatiently. “We talked about this.” 

“Yes, yes, I know!” Mother said, waving a hand at him. “But she’d only been home a few days, and I’ve been busy with hosting everyone. Promise you’ll keep writing, dear?” 

Evie nodded. “Yes, Mother.” 

“And really write, because Thomas told me you hadn’t read the last one. He said his arrival caught you unawares.” 

Blinking slowly, Evie wondered if she’d ever stop hearing about these blasted fucking letters. “I will, Mother.” 

“And keep up with your lessons. And you should really be writing to people besides me. I don’t want to get so distant again. You barely even recognized your cousins. Max—you're going to write Evie too. You can tell each other about the Circles.” 

Max and Evie both nodded, although Evie had absolutely no intention of doing any such thing. 

“It’s absurd, the both of you leaving. And both back off to Circles,” Mother shook her head. “It hardly seems fair.” 

“It’s the Maker’s will,” Uncle Thomas told her sharply, his first words of the morning. 

“Yes, well, of course” Mother replied awkwardly. “And I...I should really head back to the kitchens to go over the menu for tonight.” 

“Goodbye Mother,” Evie said, barely restraining her exasperation as the woman fled the entryway with a choked sob. 

“She’ll cheer up in a few days,” Max said, “Although we might be heavily in debt to the vintner.” 

“You’ll be well, lad?” Uncle Thomas asked. His face was still stony and grim, but there was a measure of respect in his tone when it was directed at her younger brother. “Kirkwall’s no picnic.” 

Evie had been surprised that he was being sent there at all. After the fuss the family had sent up after Roger’s assignment, she wondered by The Revered Auntie hadn’t simply intervened, Father had made enough comments at the party last night, but Max’s easy smile seemed its own answer. He _wanted_ to be at Kirkwall, for whatever blighted reason. 

“I’m happy to go where I’m needed.” 

Uncle Thomas grunted and gave a brief shake of his head. “I’ll go ready the wagon.” 

“Wagon?” Evie asked, but he’d already turned away. He was out of the foyer without a backward glance. 

Max stared after him with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Good luck with that one. He’s a dreadful bore. But you know that.” 

“Goodbye, Maxwell,” Evie said. Her headache was worsening by the second, and apparently, they’d be traveling back in a wagon. Better than a horse, maybe, but only just. She took a half step towards the door before a hand shot out to grab her arm. 

Max spun her around to face him, a mocking tilt to his mouth “ _Now_ , Evie, how about a hug? It might be another few years before we see each other again.” 

Her mouth pinched in a frown, but when he drew her in, she stood graciously still. He squeezed her once, quite hard, before letting her pull away. 

“I have a feeling you’ll ignore mother’s requests, but I think it would be wonderful for us to write.” 

Evie nodded. When he didn’t say anything else, she broke out of the circle of his arms and fled through the large front doors. 

She only looked back once, but the manse loomed large above her, and she couldn’t stand the sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so let me know if to central scenes seem too long. I wanted them to build into completely uncomfortable family chaos, and then I realized they were like pages of mostly dialogue? Idk if I love it. Please tell me if you think I should change anything!

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Evie visits home!  
> Please let me know about any glaring issues! I've reread this a hundred times, so if I didn't pick up on anything, it's because I probably didn't know it was wrong. Also, let me know what you think in general. I need feedback like I need air.


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